The Scythe, the Ox, and the Jackal
by dominicgrim
Summary: Continuing the AU story of Viscountess Solona Amell and her husband Sebastian Vael, takes place during the events of act 2 and 3 of DA 2. Violence, adult content, and language. I do not own Dragon Age, I just play here.
1. Son or Daughter

**A/N: **_**Greetings! **_**This story is a continuation of the one presented in **_**Viscountess Amell.**_** If you are a new reader to this universe you might want to read **_**Long Live the Viscountess**_** in my **_**Grim Tales**_** and that one first, just to catch up. I of course do not own Dragon Age, Bioware is just nice enough to let us all play in its sandbox. So without further ado, allow me to present the next chapter in Viscountess Amell's story.**

**The Scythe, the Ox, and the Jackal**

**Chapter 1: Son or Daughter**

**Mid-Summer, 9:33 Dragon Age**

The two women made their way down the corridors of the Viscount's Keep in Kirkwall, the various guards and servants bowed to them as they passed by, both of them acknowledging these shows of respect with gentle nods.

The two women, both noble born, but from separate generations, but no one would doubt the regal air that they both carried themselves with. The elder of the pair was gray-haired, her face lined gently with a youth of difficulty and hardship. She had been born to wealth but had chosen a more common existence, choosing love over duty.

_It was a choice she would have made again in a heartbeat._

The older woman had only recently grown used to living in luxury again. Living as a commoner had given her a unique perspective on the noble games of Kirkwall, her blue eyes were kind, but also marked with sadness.

Hers was a face that reflected much of the recent troubles in the city of chains.

Her companion was younger, and far more regal than the elder lady before her. Tall and slender with white blond hair, this one radiated both power and grace. She was clad in the drab black and gray robes of state, the black crown of Kirkwall rested on her brow. As the reigning Viscountess of Kirkwall it was her job to protect her home from danger. She had succeeded but at a heavy cost, both to herself and her home. Her blue eyes, so much like that of her companion had seen much in the past year. Events that had cost her much of her innocence and naiveté, not to mention loved ones.

The Amell family was much like the city they ruled, they had suffered and been battered from both outside and within, and yet they endured.

_Amells always endured._

It was a time of trouble in Kirkwall, their enemies circled like carrion birds, while within nobles, Qunari, mages, and Templars played their power games.

But even in this time of darkness, there was hope for the future, and joy at the coming of new life.

The Viscountess was the clearest example of this, all one had to do was look down upon her slowly expanding belly and see that hope.

She quite literally carried the future of her family within her now…

…The next ruler of Kirkwall.

The two women made their way to the throne room; they paused as the guards opened the doors and allowed them to pass. The Viscountess glanced up at the dais where she had conducted so much business since her reign began almost seven years earlier; she had lost the throne recently, but had through hard fought battle won it back.

She had won that battle, but now it was time to win the peace.

_**That **__might prove far more difficult._

The older woman regarded her younger counterpart with a knowing smile, having mothered three children herself, she knew what the poor girl was going through, and it was a hard thing, becoming a mother for the first time.

Yet she was certain the girl was up to the challenge.

"You will stand there in a few months," the older woman began, "It is there that you will greet the royal court yet again, but this time will be different, this time you shall present your first child to them."

She smiled gently.

"All of Kirkwall will turn out to see the little prince."

"Or Princess, Cousin Leandra," the Viscountess said quietly.

Leandra Hawke smiled.

"Or Princess, Lona dear," she agreed.

Solona Amell, the Viscountess Amell, the Lioness of Kirkwall smiled.

That would be one meeting of the royal court that she would be more than happy to attend.

The two women cut through the throne room and made their way back up towards the royal apartments, where House Amell maintained their living quarters.

There was so few of them now. Solona herself, her husband Sebastian, Cousin Leandra, Leandra's daughter Bethany, though she was currently out of the city, and of course Bethany's infant son Carver, heir to the noble House of Bradley. Garrett Hawke, Leandra's other son had taken up refuge within the old Amell family estate in Hightown. He saw himself more of his own man, rather than a member of House Amell.

Of course, there was one other Amell still living in the keep, but he was no longer welcome among them.

_The dungeons were now his home._

Leandra smiled at the Viscountess, trying to shake her from the melancholy that kept threatening to overwhelm her these past few months.

"Have you and Sebastian discussed names yet?" Leandra asked.

"A few," the Viscountess smiled, "Sebastian does not want to admit it, but…I think he is hoping that we have a son, someone he can teach to ride and shoot arrows with."

Leandra smiled at the girl.

"He can do that with a little girl as well."

""True, but I still think he would like a son. He would still love a daughter but…"

Leandra nodded, she knew what husbands were like sometimes. Her beloved Malcolm, Maker rest his soul, had been ecstatic when little Garrett had been born.

"And what does the young Mother want?"

Solona considered that. She had often wondered what her first child would be like. A boy or a girl, a warrior, a diplomat, a rogue, perhaps a combination of all of those, or something entirely different, did it really matter as long as their baby was strong and healthy?

No it did not matter, but…

…but…

There was one thing that Solona Amell did pray for. Something that she hoped that her child would avoid, a pain that she would not wish on the little life growing inside of her, her greatest fear given form.

The Amell family curse, the curse she herself had been born with…

Magic.

The Viscountess was not ashamed of being a mage, far from it, but…being one meant that she could not reveal herself to be. Chantry law was quite clear on this matter. Magic was to serve and never to rule.

Her very existence, her ruling Kirkwall, was an affront against the chantry. If the Templars discovered her, she would be punished severely; Kirkwall's Knight-Commander Meredith would see the Amell family's power smashed. It members killed or arrested.

She had hidden what she was for so long, lived with the fear that her very existence would doom their whole family.

She would not see her child forced to deal with that. If her child had magic, she would do her best to teach patience and discretion.

But she prayed that that day would never come.

House Amell deserved better. Her child **deserved** better.

Solona put on her bravest face for her cousin. Leandra did not know her secret, she would have understood, but it was better that she not know.

It was safer.

"Boy or girl," the Viscountess said, "My child will have a proud and happy Mother. A girl would be nice, but a boy…a boy would settle the nobility down."

Solona sighed.

"Kirkwall needs that right now."

Leandra nodded, but expression turned sad.

"It would be nice to have boy in the Keep again."

The comment stopped Solona cold, her eyes hardened slightly.

It was not what was said, but what was implied.

She faced Leandra, her manner becoming that of the ruler she was.

"Is that a rebuke cousin?" she asked with a brittle voice.

Some might have been cowed by the chill that had settled over the Viscountess, but Leandra Hawke was not one of those.

She was strong, perhaps too strong for her own good sometimes.

"It is a regret Cousin Lona," she said firmly, "Nothing more."

The two women regarded each other coolly for a few minutes before continuing on.

Solona sighed heavily.

"You have been visiting with **him **again," she murmured.

Leandra nodded, she did not see the point in lying.

"Please do not order me to stop," the older woman said, "I will obey if you do, but I beg you…please do not make me."

Solona's hands curled into angry fists.

"He is not worthy of your care or affection Leandra."

Leandra gave her a pained look.

"He is **still **your brother," she said, "He is **still** Daylen."

"He may be my brother," the Viscountess said, "But he is not Daylen…not anymore."

The young ruler shivered.

"He is Death's Hand now, cousin," Solona said coldly, "Never forget that."

She knew that she never would.

IOI

Daylen Amell, her dear little brother, seventeen years old, but already a capable warrior and cunning tactician. He had served as her right hand since he was sixteen. As the Hand of the Viscountess and the Viceroy of the Alienage of Kirkwall Daylen had done a lot of good, he had aided the elves of Kirkwall, made the Alienage here something to be proud of. His methods as her Hand had been a bit draconian at times, but his zeal in defending their home was never seen as a vice.

The Viscountess winced.

That had been a mistake on her part, her love for her brother had blinded her to his less than noble attributes.

Daylen, along with his lovers Angelique Poole and Neria Surana had conducted a silent war against her here in Kirkwall. Their schemes had been both subtle and cruel. Daylen had built up his powerbase slowly, while the elf Neria, a disguised blood mage had attacked Solona with her foul sorceries. The three of them had tried to not only make her barren, but to drive her insane as well, all as a precursor to the Lord Hand seizing the throne for himself.

Her brother's schemes had caused much pain, but one of his victims **had** fought back. Lord Marlowe Dumar, who had lost his son to one of Daylen's schemes, lured her brother into a trap.

Once there, Lord Dumar had had Daylen's right hand cut off, it was punishment for the death of his son.

Daylen had survived that loss, but refused to accept it. He turned to his elven mistress and her blood magic to restore his hand to him. The result had been a horrific blending of human and demonic power.

Daylen now possessed the clawed hand of a shade, one of the lesser demons of the fade. The Viscountess was not certain if it influenced him more than he realized but the results of Daylen's plans were clear.

Those events had also led to Daylen taking a new name for himself, one that had been used originally to insult him, a bastardization of his title as her hand. A name meant to inspire fear in his enemies…

_Death's Hand_

He was now Death's Hand, and as Death's Hand he had doubled his efforts to unseat her, and in the process cost them both the one that had brought them both into this world.

Their mother, the Lady Revka Amell, had been slain thanks to her brother's schemes, slain by Solona's own magic; the guilt of that still haunted her. Solona had fled into exile, and Daylen had taken the throne for himself, but even that was not enough. He became more and more paranoid; seeking to protect what he thought was his destiny.

He took steps, not just against his enemies but his own family as well, cruel steps, brutal steps.

He sought to ensure that she never return to challenge him. He even went so far as to send assassins to kill her husband, and imprison Garrett and his friends, but even that was not enough for Death's Hand.

In his desire to possess an enforcer worthy of him, Daylen had kidnapped Bethany's husband Perrin, and twisted him to his purposes through blood magic, replacing all that was good in the young warrior with his own cruel ambitions.

In short, Daylen had turned one of his own family into a monster!

Solona unable to tolerate such behavior had fled to Starkhaven and her husband's family, along with a company of freed Tevinter slaves they had defeated Death's Hand, and reclaimed her throne, but all at a heavy price.

Solona's mentor and friend Alec Meradius had been killed, along with both Perrin Bradley, and Daylen's wife Angelique, along with her unborn child, Solona's niece or nephew.

She and Daylen had clashed here in this very keep. They both had nearly died during that battle, but she had emerged victorious.

Now, she spent her time trying to repair the damage her brother had done.

It was not an easy job.

IOI

"I wish you would not call him that," Leandra said.

"It is who he is cousin; it is who he wants to be."

"He is sick Lona. He needs our help."

The Viscountess shook her head.

"Your compassion is commendable cousin," she said, "But don't let it blind you. Deat…Daylen is not the boy you met when you came here, if he ever was. He is a danger to everyone he touches."

"It wasn't his fault," Leandra said, "It was that girl and her elf, whispering poison in his ear, promising things beyond what he deserved. Maybe with them gone, maybe…maybe he will get better."

"I'm not denying their involvement," Solona sighed, "But Daylen still went along with their plans. He is still responsible for at least some of those actions. He is not an innocent victim in all this. What he did was treason."

"I…I'm not denying that, but…Daylen…he…"

Leandra almost sobbed.

Solona gave her an understanding look.

"He...he often came to me for advice. If…if only I had seen something. If I had heard something…"

The older woman sobbed.

"Maybe we could have prevented all of this."

Solona place her hand on Leandra's shoulder. She offered her a handkerchief.

The older woman took it and wiped her eyes.

"This wasn't your fault Leandra," Solona said, "You should not think that it was, and at the same time, you should not be fooled by Daylen either. I heard you say many times that he reminded you a bit of Carver."

The older woman nodded. Carver Hawke, Bethany's twin, who had been killed by an ogre during the Blight.

His death had hit the older woman hard, and Daylen had played on that.

"Daylen is not Carver, he is not your son, nor is he simply a young boy trying to prove himself" Solona said flatly, "He is dangerous and ruthless. I still bear the scars of our battle in the keep. If you are not careful he is going to end up hurting you."

"Daylen would never hurt me," Leandra replied.

"Daylen wouldn't, but Death's Hand might, not right now, perhaps," Solona cautioned, "But if it allowed him to regain power, do not think that he would hesitate to harm you, or Garrett, Bethany, or me."

Leandra dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief.

"There must be some way to help him,' she murmured.

Solona almost rolled her eyes. Yet, part of her still thought as Leandra did.

She still loved her brother; she still wanted to believe that he could be saved.

She could forgive Daylen if he tried to recover, she could not forget, but she could forgive him.

She had offered to let him go into exile, to live quietly, he would never be allowed to return to Kirkwall, but if he produced any children they would be. It would allow him to do his duty to his family without risking his betrayal again. Provided he help them bring the rest of his conspirators to justice. She could not risk sending him away while they were still out there. Neria Surana still led forces in Daylen's name, not to mention the fact that several other nobles, emboldened by his success had also split away from Kirkwall and were fighting her forces for control.

She could not risk her little brother unifying those forces against her, so in the dungeon he would stay.

It was just another problem, one of many.

Kirkwall was not in a very good state now thanks to Death's Hand. The War of Lions, as the fight between them was now being called had weakened the city. A city filled with even more enemies.

The people were still unsure of her; Daylen had done everything to convince them that she was mad and unworthy of the throne. It had created a dissident movement against her, a group that was demanding her removal from the throne. That movement was disorganized now, but slowly gaining in strength.

_She would have to deal with that soon._

The coterie and other criminal groups would not hesitate to take advantage of her weakness.

_She would have to deal with them soon._

While at the same time the Qunari continued to wait on the docks, watching Kirkwall while they carried out their own agenda. She knew a little about that thanks to a friend among them, but even she had fallen silent of late.

_Quiet Qunari were dangerous Qunari._

_She would have to deal with them soon too._

Add into the conflict that Knight-Commander Meredith of the Templars and First Enchanter Orsino of the circle were always at each other throats that the tension between Templar and mage was growing with each passing year and she had come to realize that she had yet another problem on her hands.

Add into that Garrett's friend Anders, a mage, and known member of the mage underground knew her secret, and it was yet another wild card placed into the deck.

_So many enemies, so little __**time!**_

Death's Hand, the Qunari, Meredith, and Orsino, they all had their own ambitions and agendas. Kirkwall had become a storm, and she was sitting at its center trying to calm everything down, before it blew up in their faces.

She tried not to think about that now, those problems would all have to be dealt with, but for now she needed to focus on one thing at a time.

Calming Leandra was the first.

"I will do what I can for Daylen," she promised, "Our elder brother Marius is coming to visit, perhaps he can talk some sense into my brother, remind him of who he is."

Leandra gave her a hopeful smile.

"Is Lord Aedan coming as well?"

Solona smiled slightly.

Aedan Cousland was more than just a hero; he was one of her best friends.

To be honest, she could use his advice right now.

"I'm not certain," the Viscountess replied, "The Hero of Ferelden's a busy man, regardless we need to put our best foot forward yes?"

Leandra nodded, that would be for the best.

Seeing her cousin cheered settled Solona's mind slightly.

The Amells had many problems on the horizon to deal with, but she was not daunted.

_Amells did not quit, they fought on._

_Amells __**endured.**_


	2. Pursuit

**Chapter 2: Pursuit**

"Any word?"

The scout shifted uncomfortably, he had been watching the old Tevinter ruin for hours, and had hoped to have at least something good to report to his commanders.

"No Ser Graydon,' he replied, "There has been no movement inside at all."

Ser Graydon Stark shifted uncomfortably on his horse; he did not bother to glance at the two people riding beside him, his fellow commanders in this campaign.

Stark was not one of those noble born knights that had bought his title, he was a soldier, as his mop of curly black hair, and many scars on his tanned face showed. He had begun his life as on a small farm hold just east of the Brecilian Passage in Ferelden. He knew that some of the knights in Kirkwall looked down on him because of his Ferelden armor, fur lined cloak, and Brunt, his scarred up warhound at his side. Gray did not care. He had fought his way up the ranks the hard way. Earning his knighthood and having caught the eye of Teyrn Loghain himself. It was the Teyrn himself who had knighted him, and Graydon Stark had served with distinction in Maric's Shield, until the blight and the Grey Wardens brought his lord down.

Gray held no grudge against them, the Teyrn had made his own choice, and it had been a bad one in the end, still…after that he could no longer remain in Ferelden, he had left the first chance he had gotten, when the king's business brought him here to the Free Marches. He had fulfilled his final mission to King Alistair, and had expected to vanish into obscurity after that, but the Maker it seemed had other plans for him.

He once again found himself in command of men at arms. He was now serving Her Grace, Solona Amell of Kirkwall. The woman had earned his loyalty during their time together and now he offered his sword in her attempts to bring peace back to her city.

Dealing with the remnants of Death's Hand's army was part of that, but even he recognized the wrongness with this place.

No movement the scout had said.

_No movement at all, that was __**not **__good._

Brunt looked up at his master and whimpered, clearly the dog did not like this any better than he did.

For the last month they had been out here, two full companies of men, brave souls all. They had been sent on a singular purpose for Her Grace, Solona Amell.

_A purpose they were sadly failing at._

Three days ago they had received word from one of the knights serving House Rowland. The man had claimed to have spotted the witch Neria Surana with some of her men operating out of this abandoned Tevinter structure.

Gray had sent strict orders for the knight and his men not to engage the witch's forces directly. This had been the first time they had not simply been reacting to one of the blood mage's attacks, a chance to at last capture her, or at the very least give her a bloody nose.

The Ferelden born knight sighed.

House Rowland had apparently not waited; they had gone in themselves before the courier could arrive with their orders.

Now…the ruins had fallen silent.

The young woman to his right snorted with frustration, she was beautiful in her way, long black hair, honey-brown eyes, and a mouth always so close to smiling.

A smile that had died away in the past few months, any cheer the woman had once felt had been crushed by personal tragedy. Once she had glided around the Viscount's Keep in Orlesian silk dresses, now she settled for leather leggings and an armored gambeson, the staff she carried was bladed and very sharp.

The lady had not been crushed by her suffering; she had been hardened by it, fashioned into a weapon.

It was a little sad.

"The fool should have waited," she grumbled, "Now all we have to show for all this is ruin filled with dead men."

Stark regarded her coolly.

"We do not know that they are dead Lady Bethany."

Lady Bethany Hawke-Bradley said nothing. As the cousin of the Viscountess, she was the highest ranked noble here. The widow of Lord Perrin Bradley, Bethany had lost her husband to the blood mage's foul manipulations.

She intended to see Surana pay for that.

"The witch is cunning," the companion to his left said, "She was likely aware of Rowland's men being here before they knew that she was here."

This man was an elf, but unlike any that Gray had seen before, silver haired with green eyes, lyrium branded into his skin by a cruel Tevinter mage years ago. Fenris had until recently served as bodyguard to Lord Daylen Amell, but had sided with his sister when he finally realized what the young lord was turning into.

The elf blamed Neria Surana for much of that, the blood mage was a skilled manipulator, she played on Daylen Amell's ambitions and appetites, until he turned into exactly what she needed him to be.

Fenris would never forgive her for that, if it was the last thing he did, he would see her answer for it. Daylen Amell had been his friend once.

The witch would pay for twisting him.

Revenge, it was a powerful motivator, Graydon Stark knew that, it had raised his former Lord Teyrn Loghain of Gwaren to the height of power in his native Ferelden. Both Fenris and Lady Bethany were held firmly in its grip, as well as many of the other men and women here. Most of the people fighting at their side today were volunteers, young nobles and soldiers who had lost loved ones during Death's Hand's brief but depraved rule. Many of them desired to see Neria Surana's head on a spike, and would likely make it happen if they caught up to her.

Yes, revenge was a powerful motivator.

Gray was here to make sure that it did not run away with any of them.

He wanted the blood mage brought to justice for his Viscountess; he would not allow her friends and loved ones to be lost pursuing some blood feud or vendetta.

He was a soldier. He **would **keep order.

"Let's go," Bethany ordered.

Many of the men followed her.

"Are you certain that is wise?" Gray asked her.

The noble woman frowned.

"If the reports are to be believed," Bethany said, "Our forces outnumber the witch's five to one. If our men here had waited it would be almost six to one. If she is still in there we can take her. We have the litany for defense against her blood magic, and you have Fenris and myself."

Bethany gave him a slight smile.

"We should be enough to guarantee victory."

Gray snorted. He knew Bethany Bradley's secret of course, as a mage she could defend others against one of her fellows, and the Litany of Adralla would protect them from the witch's mind control, but…

"We must still be cautious," he advised.

"Of course," Bethany smirked.

She led the men forward.

Fenris rode up beside Gray.

"She is not thinking clearly," the Tevinter elf said, "She has blood in her eyes."

Gray did not respond. He recognized that to be true.

If Neria Surana was still in there, and Bethany Bradley caught her alone, there would be blood.

Whose blood, he could not say for certain.

He looked down on Brunt; the Mabari looked up awaiting his word.

"Come on boy," he murmured, "No one wants to live forever."

The dog snorted and took after the mage and the others.

Gray drew his sword, he followed after her.

He would do what he could to safeguard Bethany's life.

The Viscountess would not wish her cousin hurt.

Not any more than she already had of course.

IOI

The ruins were dark when they entered, stinking of blood and death. Flies buzzed loudly already in the summer heat.

Gray's warhound whimpered at the stench, and the sense of menace that spread through this room.

Bethany stared in horror at the sight that greeted her.

The knights of House Rowland were scattered upon the ground, their bodies torn and bloody by battle. A single armored figure remained alive, but bound to a post near the back of the ruins.

_Monstrous,_ Bethany thought, _murderous._

She expected little else from Neria Surana,

She reached out with her magic, trying to sense the blood mage nearby. She could feel an echo of the girl's magic, but that was it.

The noble snarled.

The witch had likely had a bolt hole here somewhere, her men having escaped after they did this.

She was likely long gone by now.

One of their soldiers, a boy from Lowtown looked green as he regarded the carnage around them.

"If there was a battle here," he murmured, "Where are the bodies of the enemy?"

It was Fenris that answered him.

"These men turned on each other, the witch likely did not have many soldiers here, but she did not need them."

Fenris spat with distaste.

"Her magic turned them against each other."

Gray shook his head in disdain.

"They should have waited for us," he murmured, "We had the litany, this could have been avoided."

Bethany shook her head. Because Neria Surana had spent much of her time as a handmaiden in a noble house most nobles underestimated her, that and the fact that she was elven.

This was what happened when noble arrogance faced blood magic.

In this case, magic had won.

A weak groan drew their attention; the soldier chained to the wall was still alive.

Another of their men ran to aid him.

"Don't touch him!" Bethany ordered.

The soldier froze.

Bethany drew her staff and advanced towards the wounded prisoner.

Surana preferred to hurt her enemies whenever she could. She was not above placing a wounded soldier under a curse and using his as a weapon to harm his allies.

Fenris joined her. He stayed close, watching for any signs of betrayal.

Bethany reached out with her magic; she could sense the elf's touch upon this man.

He coughed weakly and looked up at them with glassy empty eyes.

He smiled slyly.

"Hello Fenris darling," the man said, he spoke with masculine tones, but the manner, the pitch of his voice, and the tilt of the head suggested someone more feminine.

_Neria Surana._

Fenris's eyes narrowed.

"She is speaking through him," the elf spat.

No one needed to ask who she was.

"_So smart my little wolf_," Neria continued through her puppet, "_It is a shame you rejected me. It could have been…fun."_

Bethany snarled with barely restrained fury.

"She can't be far, spread out and search."

"_I'm far enough away that you won't find me,"_ the witch added, _"I merely wished to give you one final chance to abandon this pursuit, before more of you end up dead."_

Bethany glared at the man, knowing that the witch could see what he was seeing.

"We'll never give up," she growled, "Not until you answer for your crimes in Kirkwall."

The bound man giggled.

"_I served my Viscount that was it. It is all of you that have betrayed __**him**__. It is all of you who are true criminals here."_

The dying man smiled at Bethany.

"_Your husband was the most loyal of us. How he must be disappointed in you now."_

Bethany's eyes flashed with anger.

"You twisted my Perrin, turned him into a puppet, a freak!"

"_I simply stripped away his weakness,"_ the blood mage replied, _"There was __**soooo **__much malice in sweet Perrin's soul, so much hunger he denied."_

The puppet's smile widened.

"_You know, I likely knew him better than you ever did. He moaned with ecstasy as I freed him from his weaker emotions, and then later…I indulged myself. He was quite sexy."_

Bethany's eyes flared with magic.

"Shut up," she hissed.

"_I can still hear him now."_

"Shut up."

"_Yes Milady. Yesssss!"_

"Shut up."

"_You are so much better than that shrew I have at home. So much…"_

"**SILENCE!"**

Bethany lunged; she decapitated the dying soldier with her bladed staff, but not before Neria Surana could laugh at her one last time.

Not before she could laugh at them all.

Bethany Hawke-Bradley wailed in impotent fury!

IOI

In distance, Neria Surana smiled on the back of her horse, flanked by several of her guards.

She could almost hear the poor girl's pained wailing, even here.

She smiled.

As a bard, she understood the value of eliciting strong emotions from those who heard her words, rather story, song, or something more.

It was always nice to find an audience who appreciated her work.

The Lady Bethany certainly did.

IOI

"Milady!"

Gray went to her side. Fenris was already there attempting to sooth her.

They did not need the Viscountess's cousin losing it in front of the men. They were spooked enough by what they had seen.

Once again, Gray thought that perhaps this pursuit was not a good idea.

More and more he saw the merits of bringing in the Chantry's Seekers of Truth.

They were more adept with dealing with such horrors.

"It is over Milady," Gray repeated, "She is gone."

"We must go after her," Bethany snarled with blind unreasoning rage, "She will pay for what she did to Perrin!"

"Yes, she will," he agreed, "But not today."

He turned to the others.

"We return to Kirkwall," He ordered, "The Viscountess must be informed of this."

Bethany looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"We can't give up now!"

"We're not giving up," he replied, "We are returning home to regroup, and strike out from a place of strength. We can no longer afford to dance to the witch's tune."

He pinned Bethany with a hard gaze.

"Your husband will be avenged Milady," he said in soothing tones, "But even he would not wish to see you like this."

She stood straighter, her anger now clamped down hard beneath cold control.

"I'm fine," she said.

"No you're not."

She got up in his face.

"Are you questioning me knight?"

Graydon Stark did not back down.

Brunt growled, but Gray stopped his loyal hound with a gesture.

He did not want to provoke the angry mage any more than she was.

"The men are not thinking clearly," he reminded her, "You are not thinking clearly. Soldiers who fight with all their hearts win, but soldiers that think only with their hearts die very quickly."

The Knight glared down at the smaller woman.

"You are not thinking, the men that fell into this trap did not either, and look where that got them? We owe it to the men to see that they at least have a chance to come back alive, to return to their families."

He crossed his arms.

"This war is not about your personal vendetta."

Bethany looked like she was about to snap at him.

It was then that Fenris decided to speak.

"He is right," the elf murmured.

Bethany spun on him.

"You too?"

He gave her an uncomfortable look.

"You are allowing the witch to manipulate you. She is playing on your emotions. If you try to fight her like this…"

Fenris did not need to finish.

Bethany no doubt knew what would happen.

Gray sighed.

"You need to be calm to do what needs to be done," he murmured, "You can't do that out here on the road. You need to see your family. They can help you."

She gave him a pained look.

"Think about your family," Gray murmured, "Think about your son."

IOI

Bethany shuddered.

Carver Bradley was only seven months old. He was being well cared for in the keep, she did not doubt that, but…

NO! She was doing this for him! She was going to avenge his Father!

Her son was all alone. She was his mother.

Perrin must be avenged!

She was his mother.

Bethany took a deep shuddering breath.

Slowly, she nodded.

"We return to Kirkwall," she said with a tired sigh, "I…we could all use a break. We will strike out again at a time of our choosing."

She turned to the many angry and horrified faces around her.

"We are not giving up," she reassured them, "We will bring the witch to justice."

She gave them all a grim look.

"Those we love **will **be avenged."


	3. A 'New Home

**Chapter 3: A "New" Home**

Garrett Hawke once again made the journey to the Viscount's Keep, his small company of friends in tow.

The nobles recognized him of course; he had made quite a splash in Hightown since his arrival almost four years ago. He was slim built with tanned skin, and a mop of unruly dark hair, he did his best to keep his beard neatly trimmed but that did little to hide the scruffiness he saw within himself. He was a skilled rogue, and preferred to let the city see him as such; the daggers and fine leather armor he wore were as much a symbol of that. His Mother, Leandra Hawke would have preferred that he present himself as a gentleman, but that was simply not who he was.

Hawke made no excuses for what kind of man he was, he **liked** who he was.

The streets of Kirkwall were all a bustle at this hour; merchants sold their wares, while guards and Templars patrolled the city streets. On the surface, Hightown was the same as it ever was, but underneath…

You could almost sense the tension hidden beneath the veneer of normalcy.

_The war of lions was still raging._

Hawke frowned.

Daylen Amell might have been imprisoned, but his followers still fought in his name. Neria Surana continued to direct Death's Hand's forces against Cousin Solona. Throw into the mix the renegade nobles who had pronounced themselves the new rulers of Kirkwall and you had a mess on your hands.

Peaceful protests were often staged outside the keep these days. Members of the dissident movement that still believed Daylen's lies about his older sister. People that now saw Kirkwall under the control of foreign rulers.

The dissidents had many demands, which were as varied as their members. Some demanded that Solona step down, some demanded that she remove all foreign influence from the city. Another group had claimed the Solona was working in alliance with the elves that they were seeking to make humans second class citizens within their own city, that everything that she had done for the elves were a precursor to allowing the elven citizens a chance to overthrow the humans.

It was ridiculous, Hawke knew that, but there were just enough people in Kirkwall who bought the lies about his cousin that they simply would not die.

_Of course, that may have been the whole point._

Solona had expelled many of Daylen's loyalists from Kirkwall, people who refused to accept her rule as justified. They had left the city peacefully enough, many had likely gone to other cities, and some had no doubt gone off and joined the rebels.

Those people were right where they should be, outside where their trouble could be dealt with.

Hawke was not concerned about them, he was more concerned with the ones they had not gotten rid of, the ones who were still loyal to Daylen and decided to stay.

They had problems with sabotage now, and would until they root out these infiltrators. It was they who were likely continuing to spread the lies against Solona.

The Viscountess allowed these protests. Kirkwall was still a free city after all, as long as they harmed no one physically; people were free to voice their opinions.

Hawke snorted, people forgot the facts so quickly, had these idiots tried to protest under Daylen, the Runt would have called out his guard on them. A peaceful protest would have turned into a bloodbath.

How quickly the people forgot that.

IOI

"Any idea why we have been summoned Hawke?"

The rogue looked down on Varric Tethras, his dwarven business partner and friend. The blond haired dwarf rubbed his stubbled chin, he did a quick spot check of his tunic and duster coat, the repeating crossbow strapped to his back was polished and gleamed dangerously.

"Not sure Varric," he replied, "Solona has been very busy lately, we got some wardens visiting, and the group that was out hunting Daylen's people just returned, perhaps she has news regarding that."

Merrill, the third member of their party wrung her hands nervously. The lithe dark haired Dalish pariah considered the Viscountess a friend, but she was still leery of the keep. Daylen had had Hawke and his allies imprisoned for attempting to ferment rebellion against him. He had been very harsh to Merrill during her imprisonment here before Solona had liberated them all. Many times Hawke had heard the elf cry out when woken from a nightmare, Daylen's name on her lips.

It was just another thing that he owed the runt a good punch in the mouth for.

"I hope Lady Lona is not mad at us," the Dalish murmured, "You don't think so do you Hawke? You don't think she is mad at us?"

The fourth member of their party chuckled.

"Relax Merrill, if the Viscountess wanted to punish us, she would not have requested that we come to the Keep. She would simply have asked Hawke's girlfriend to have us arrested."

Hawke glared at her.

"Not helping Serene."

The elf grinned at him.

Serene was the newest member of their little party. The last survivor of a group of Orlesian Bards that Solona had hired to sniff out conspiracies in the keep. The bards had been betrayed by one of their own to Daylen, and Serene had been the only one to escape.

Pale skinned with long black hair and ruby red eyes, Serene was striking even for one of her kind. She had a fuller figure than most elves, more akin to a human woman than one of her kind. She had strong arms and legs, and had served as an acrobat as part of her cover in Orlais.

With her master dead, the elf had had nowhere to go. She had fought bravely during the battle in the Viscount's Keep, and now lived in the Hanged Man near Varric. Corff offered her free room and board as long she performed twice a week for his customers. Along with her combat skills, she was also a skilled storyteller and singer.

She got along quite well with Varric for that reason.

Hawke had wanted to keep her close after the business with Daylen. Solona had come to trust the girl, but she was still a bard, he wanted to make sure that one of the Viscountess's enemies would not make the girl a good enough offer that she might betray them.

Besides, her skills came in handy; their group had been down a rogue since Isabela had…

Hawke felt a painful twist in his heart.

Isabela, she had been one of them once, a pirate captain from the shores of Rivain. She had also been his lover for a time.

Isabela had vanished one night. They now knew the reason, she had stolen from the Qunari once, and Daylen, seeking revenge for Isabela aiding his sister, had turned her over to them.

According to Solona, Isabela had been…converted by the Qunari. She now served as one of them, as what they called a Tallis, some sort of investigator.

Hawke had tried to speak with her at the Qunari compound; he had requested an audience from the Arishok, demanding a chance to see her.

The Qunari leader had not allowed it, the Tallis was now part of the Qun, and he would not have Hawke distracting her from her duties.

He told the rogue to be gone.

Hawke shook his head.

He was with Aveline now, he loved the guard captain and she loved him, but he still felt that he owed Isabela something. Perhaps he could find a way to free her from the Qunari. Solona said that she seemed to be at peace with her new life, but he doubted that.

The Isabela he knew was no one's slave, and she had hated the rigid Qunari.

He could only imagine what she had gone through before they had…had…broken her.

The very thought filled him with rage.

One way or another, he would find her…

He would find a way to save her.

He owed her that much.

IOI

He had told Aveline of his plan, his desire to save his friend. At first he had been afraid she would not understand, that she would think that he was only trying to get Isabela back because he wanted her again.

As always the guard captain surprised him.

She had kissed him on the nose and promised him her full support.

She had never approved of the pirate queen, he had always known that, but…that did not mean that agreed with what the Qunari had done to her. Aveline was a strong believer in a person's right to choose. What the Qunari had done was take away Isabela's ability to choose her own fate.

Aveline did not agree with that.

They still needed to be careful of course, they could not endanger the treaty. Kirkwall was still weak right now; too many good soldiers had been lost during the recent fight between the Amells.

A Qunari attack on Kirkwall now would be quite bad.

Aveline advised him to speak with Solona and with Graydon Stark as well, they had been companions of Isabela/Tallis after all, they might know how that he might reach his old friend.

Hawke had snorted at the idea. He trusted Solona, but this Stark…that was another matter entirely.

Aveline had chuckled at his reaction.

"What?" He had asked her.

"Nothing," she had replied, "Put two alpha dogs into a room and they will fight, regardless of ill feeling or not."

Hawke had laughed.

His love had a point, though he did make her pay for it. He had tickled her mercilessly, until she had surrendered.

The rogue had chuckled at that memory.

A few years ago, had you told him he would not only be a high nobleman, but one involved with the captain of a city guard, he would have called the person delusional.

Oh, the twists and turns of fate.

IOI

Their group arrived at the Viscount's Keep, they were not surprised to see the full royal court in attendance, protesters jeered at the nobles as they walked by, but did nothing more. Aveline's guard kept the people back, but their angry shouts could not be ignored.

"**Collaborators!"**

"**Pawns of the Magisters!"**

**Traitors!" **

"**You will **_**never **_**starve us into submission!"**

Hawke paid special attention to the last one. Daylen had, among his other crimes, blocked key food shipments into Kirkwall as part of his schemes to unseat his sister. Some of those shipments had been found and distributed, but more than a fair share had vanished, no doubt taken by Neria and her allies to supply their army. Solona had sent requests to Starkhaven to help her people, and Prince Goran had responded, but food was trickling in slowly. The Viscountess had also restored the trade status the city of Starkhaven had enjoyed before the murder of the royal family over two years earlier.

She was one of the first monarchs in the Free Marches to admit the legitimacy of Goran Vael's claim to his throne. It was yet, another thing that the people complained about.

Hawke worried about his cousin sometimes. Between the dissidents and the Qunari she was walking tightrope with a bed of swords below her for a net. One wrong move and…everything could fall apart.

His cousin had to be very, very careful.

IOI

The throne room was packed by the time they finally found their places.

Hawke stood near his Mother. Leandra embraced him in greetings. Aveline smiled at him from her position near the dais. The throne was currently unoccupied, Solona having not yet arrived.

The recently reinstated Seneschal Bran did his best to get the nobles organized. Solona's new guard, consisting of the Tevinter slaves she had freed from the Magister Hadriana aided him where they could.

Solona recognized their presence hurt her position somewhat but she did not care. She had freed these brave men and women from bondage, and many of their fellows had died helping her regain her throne.

She refused to abandon them.

Close to the throne stood Ser Graydon Stark and his warhound Brunt, Hawke and he exchanged barely civil nods. Among the bodyguards stood Fenris, his eyes watchful for anyone who might try to harm Solona.

Hawke smiled at that, the elf had no love of mages, and according to Solona, he **did **know her secret.

He had apparently decided that she was the lesser of two evils. He had seen how Daylen Amell governed Kirkwall, and had come see Solona's approach as better, mage or not.

Progress had been made.

Bethany arrived a few moments later. It took Hawke a moment to recognize his sister, gone were the flowing silken gowns of the last few years; she now wore leather armor and a black and silver gambeson.

He was not sure he approved of this new, more militaristic, Bethany Hawke.

Of course, it was an improvement over the black silk gown of mourning she had worn since her husband had passed. Hawke may not have approved of Perrin Bradley, but the poor man had not deserved his final fate.

Bethany gave her brother a polite nod and took her place beside the rest of the survivors of the Hand of the Viscountess's advisory council, Athenril of the alienage, and Ser Avery Howell representative of the Ferelden refugees here in Kirkwall.

These were the last survivors of the group. The rest of Daylen's advisors had either been killed during the fighting or hanged by Solona for high treason.

Ser Avery whispered something in Bethany's ear, who nodded politely. She actually managed a weak smile to Athenril, who Hawke knew that Bethany still considered a friend.

She needed her friends now.

IOI

Seneschal Bran called the court to order, a few moments later Solona along with her husband Sebastian Vael stepped into the room. The nobles rose in respect for her position.

Solona nodded and murmured for them to be seated.

Sebastian guided his wife to the throne. She sat carefully on it, though it was likely quite uncomfortable for her now, the swell of her belly did not contribute well to sitting with her back ramrod straight.

She regarded her nobles coolly, the black and gray robes and cape did not hide her condition, but nor did they take away from the power that she radiated. Her long white hair was once again done up in the tight bun that had defined her since taking office seven years earlier.

She held up her hand for attention.

The nobles fell silent.

The Viscountess began her address.

"We live in troubling times," she said, "Our home has endured much these past few months, and more trial no doubt await us all, but I have no doubt that Kirkwall will endure. We must endure."

She reached out and clasped her husband's hand for support; he gave it a gentle squeeze.

She drew strength from the warmth and pressure.

"The citizens of our fair city are slow to accept my return. I do not blame them. I was sick and wounded when I fled. I needed time to heal, time to regain my strength."

She managed a cold smile.

"I return to you all now a much less naïve woman, a Viscountess that understands what it means to be more cautious in choosing my allies, and in trusting those I place in power."

She glanced at the members of the Hand's council. None of them responded.

She continued on.

"The time has come for us to stand unified once again. Our enemies will take advantage of our weakened state if we let them. We must show them that Kirkwall is never weak. We have been wounded, but that has not taken away from our strength.

She gave them a grim look.

"Many of you have doubts, and you have good reason. I ask only that you give me a chance to prove myself to you. I ask for the opportunity to regain the trust I lost when I fled. We…together…can make our city a place to be proud of once again, I do not deny that. Today, I take the first step in restoring order to our beloved home, but I cannot do it alone…"

She looked in Hawke's direction.

"The time has come to choose a new Hand of the Viscountess."

IOI

Garrett Hawke paled; he felt his stomach fall out from under him.

_Oh Maker…she…she could not mean?_

_**Oh no!**_

Garrett Hawke was many things, a law abiding citizen was not one of him. Solona naming him Hand would be grave mistake!

_Not me! Not __**me!**_

IOI

Solona's expression turned merrier.

"Traditionally the role of the Hand has been one of enforcement, and it has often been trusted to family, a relation between either blood or marriage…"

She sat up straighter on the throne.

"Today I break with that tradition."

Hawke deflated slightly, she had seen the panic on his face, as she knew she would.

The Viscountess smiled slightly.

It had been a little mean, but it had been worth it.

_If her cousin could have seen his face!_

She suppressed her amusement for now.

_Business first after all._

She once again looked in the direction of Hawke and his allies.

"Varric Tethras step forward."

The dwarf smirked as he stepped out from his place.

Serene chuckled at the smirk the dwarf had given Hawke. Merrill was even having a hard time keeping a straight face.

The dwarf stood before Solona.

"You rang Your Highnessness," he said.

IOI

Some of the nobles were shocked by his insolence, but Solona merely smiled. Sebastian smirked, it had been he who had approached Varric with Solona's offer, and explained why he was needed in this post now.

The Hand had, in recent memory, served the Viscountess poorly; Solona hoped her friend would change that. He knew how to sniff out plots, and was loyal enough to his friends not to start any himself.

It was an enlightened, if odd choice.

Varric had shocked Sebastian by saying yes. If Her Highness needed him, then he would be there.

He would keep her allies and her enemies in line.

He could do that.

IOI

"Are you prepared to take up your new duties as Lord Hand, Serah Tethras?"

"I am," he said, "Though I would prefer to being simply referred to as Hand. I'm no lord, I can live with that."

The dwarf chuckled.

"I have a bad reputation to maintain after all."

Sebastian smirked with amusement.

"As you wish my friend," Solona replied with a smile.

"As you wish."

IOI

The nobles looked around nervously.

Many had had…dealings with Varric in the past. He knew things about them, things that they would not necessarily like to see brought to the Viscountess's attention.

His appointment to his new post likely was disconcerting for many of them.

Varric made his way over to the council he would now lead. Bethany and Athenril seemed intrigued by the choice, but Ser Avery did not look very pleased.

That was endorsement enough in Hawke's opinion.

He still doubted Avery's loyalty, and did not think for a minute that Solona should turn her back on the Fereldan.

Varric would no doubt keep an eye on him.

Hawke shook his head.

This was not the Kirkwall he remembered, it had changed…

If that change was for the best or the worst remained to be seen.

Only time would tell.


	4. A Caged Lion

**Chapter 4: A Caged Lion**

Leandra Hawke made her way down the darkened steps. Only the dimmest of torchlight shone down here, to this place where the light of the sun never touched.

_It was a place of punishment, a place where someone was put so that the world could forget about them…_

…_the place where her youngest cousin was kept._

The noble woman tried to stay focused on the steps in front of her. They were very old, and not in the best repair. The dungeons were a throwback to darker times in Kirkwall. Times that stretched back to the very beginning.

The dungeons had always been a part of this place. During the rule of the Tevinter Imperium, they had been used to hold slaves who had been chosen to be used as blood sacrifices. During the days of Orlesian rule, political prisoners had been kept down here, people awaiting execution. The rise of the Threnholds had seen the cells expanded, both Threnhold rulers had had a long list of enemies, and there had been times when these cells had been full to bursting.

The rise of House Amell had seen an end to that practice. Viscount Aristide had done his best to make peace with the nobles, choosing to ship more dangerous criminals off to be held in the Gallows. His daughter Solona had continued this policy, it was rare to see her sentence someone to this dark place.

_Daylen Amell had not shared that philosophy._

The cells had been often used during his brief reign, three of them containing Hawke and his companions. Several of Death's Hand's political enemies had been brought to this place, but they did not stay long…

Daylen's elite guard would come for them in the night, usually accompanied by the blood mage Neria Surana.

When the elf came for someone they were gone…and never seen again.

Leandra shivered as she passed by the empty cells, places like this had very long memories, and seem to hold in the pain inflicted here like water was held a sponge.

Two guards accompanied her, as they had often done since she had begun making her trips down here. As they approached the last cell in the block they paused.

Four more guards stood watch here, making sure that the dungeons sole occupant caused no trouble.

"Greetings Milady," the senior guardsman said with a respectful nod.

Leandra returned it.

"May I see what you carry?" he requested.

Leandra handed over the two books she had brought with her. The Guard inspected them for any sign of weapon or trickery.

The noble woman did not mind, there was nothing special about these books. Solona had not forbid her bringing them down here.

Even a prisoner deserved something to keep his mind occupied.

"Thank you Milady," the guard said returning them to her, "As always you have five minutes."

"Of course," she replied.

The guard approached the door, his fellows watched carefully; making sure the cell's occupant caused no problems.

Their leader rapped loudly on the heavy iron door.

"Yes," a cultured voice said from within.

"You have a visitor Death's Hand," he replied, "You know the drill."

The guard opened a waist high slot in the door, a few moments later the prisoner stuck his hands out.

One of the guards gasped.

This was his first time being assigned this duty, the other guards did nothing to prepare the newcomers, they preferred to let the new fish see for themselves what they were dealing with.

The shock was a good motivator.

The prisoner's left hand was perfectly normal, pale skinned with a signet ring of House Amell adorning it. The right hand was something else entirely.

That hand…was straight out of child's worst nightmares.

Black and shiny like onyx or oil, no flesh covered the infernal appendage. It was skeletal in nature, held together by the darkest magics of the fade. The tips of the fingers ended in long sharp claws, claws that could extend to wicked hooks with the merest thought from their master.

These were the most savage of weapons, claws that could rend both armor and flesh with ease, and had done so on several occasions.

These were the weapon that had earned Daylen Amell his nickname.

These were the claws of Death's Hand.

The guard approached the door, heavy manacles in his grip. The claws extended slightly.

The guard's eyes narrowed.

"The moment I feel claws Amell," he spat, "You feel steel."

The claws retracted.

"My apologies guardsman," the prisoner purred, "It won't happen again."

The guard snorted as he bound the prisoner's hands. Once he was done, they vanished back into the cell. Its lone occupant took up a position against the back wall, in clear view of his jailors.

The guard unlocked the cell, and opened the door.

Leandra Amell stepped inside. The noble woman sighed at the sight before.

A young boy of seventeen stood before her.

No, not a boy, she reminded herself, his eighteenth birthday was only a few months off. He was a young man now.

The prisoner was broad shouldered and powerfully built. His long black hair was unkept and dirty. The plain black shirt and trousers he wore were likewise soiled. Yet, even that could not hide the nobility in the prisoner's manner. The blue eyes of the Amell family burned brightly in his head, eyes that radiated both power and cunning, and no small amount of madness. His cruel mouth, normally twisted into a feral sneer, today wore a warm smile of greetings.

"Hello cousin," he said warmly, "It is always nice to see you."

"Hello Daylen," she replied, "It is good to see you as well."

IOI

Daylen Amell, also known as Death's Hand smiled at her. He might have lost his freedom, his throne, his wife, and unborn child, but it was clear that he had not lost everything.

Leandra Amell-Hawke still looked upon him with affection.

He was grateful for that; far more grateful then anyone could possibly guess.

Lions were pack animals after all, they did not like hunting alone, and make no mistake, he was still a lion…

A lion of House Amell, the rightful ruler of Kirkwall…The Viscount of Kirkwall…betrayed by those he loved most…

…Those who should have simply accepted his rule as divine right that should have seen him for the wonder that he was. Those that should have…

He thought of Mother and Father. He thought of his poor Angelique. Their loss crushed his strength, he almost lay down on floor of his cell and wept.

He had lost everything, everything but Leandra's regard.

How pathetic was that?

He killed such thoughts, now was not the time. Leandra was here. He owed it to her to be cordial.

She was the only member of their family who had not turned their back on him. She was the only Amell who had ever showed true strength and courage.

If he lost her regard, he truly would be lost…

He could not do that.

His smile widened. He had been practicing.

Let her see that he was not broken, let her see his strength.

"I would embrace you cousin," he murmured, "But I do not believe the guards would like that."

"It is alright lad," she cooed, "They are only concerned for my safety."

Deaths Hand chuckled mirthlessly.

"It is ridiculous," he spat, "I would never harm you. You never have to fear around me cousin."

His eyes gleamed with a predatory light.

"You are safe around me; you are likely the only one who is."

Leandra frowned.

"You should not say such things Daylen. The walls have ears, even here."

Daylen laughed at that.

"What is my sweet sister going to do?" he cackled, "Have me imprisoned for life? Oh wait…she already has! I don't my situation could get any worse!"

Leandra gave him a worried look.

It sobered the prisoner's mood.

"My apologies cousin, he said with a nod, "I do not mean to speak ill of our family, but after everything that has happened. You cannot blame me."

That mollified the noble woman somewhat.

"It hurt your sister locking you up you know," she said.

"She had no choice," he shrugged, "I suppose I should count myself lucky. She could have called for my head after…after…"

Daylen's fingers tightened into angry fists, a choked sob escaped his lips.

"I still see them Leandra," he murmured, "My poor mother destroyed right before my eyes. Ripped away from us by the darkest of magics, then…then my bride…my sweet Angelique…."

Death's Hand shuddered. He gave his cousin the most tortured of looks.

"You know what it is like don't you? To watch the one you love fade away right before your eyes. To beg and plead with the Maker not to take them from you…only to know that your cries are falling on deaf ears."

Leandra's eyes shone with unshed tears.

"I know what it is like," she agreed, "I watched my Malcolm slip away from me. There was nothing I could do."

Emotions washed over Daylen Amell's face, rage, sadness, resentment and fury!

"I'm envious of you cousin," he confessed, "When you lost your love, you at least had your children to take solace in, to carry on the love you shared…"

Daylen's claws extended to their full length, but he did not move, not wishing to bring the guards down upon him.

If he did, that would likely bring an end to his visits with Leandra.

He would not do that. Being locked up did not bother him, being held in the darkness did not bother him, but the boredom…that would kill him if he let it.

For years he had been in the thick of things. Schemes, plans, and intrigue, he had had his hand on the very pulse of Kirkwall itself. That excitement had fired his imagination, and drove him to seek out his dreams.

The boredom of this cell would crush him if he let it. He would turn into an empty ranting thing. He could not do that. He owed it to Angelique to survive, to bide his time, and be patient.

Patience was his greatest virtue; he had waited years to seize his throne, slowly building a silent powerbase…

This cell would not hold him forever, one day his sister would make a mistake, and he would be free again.

Free to punish all those who had betrayed him! Free to lay claim to his throne once again!

It was only a matter of time.

"Daylen?"

Leandra's soft voice shook him out of his black thoughts. He put them away again, at least for now.

He smiled.

"I wish," he murmured, "I wish I could have seen my child…my little boy. I…I could have endured this if I knew he still lived…that I…that I had not failed him and his mother so completely."

Leandra laid the books she had brought down and approached her cousin.

Outside the cell, the guards tensed.

"I am in no danger," Leandra growled at them, "Remain where you are!"

The fact that none entered was response enough.

Leandra Hawke took her cousin's hands in hers. They were rough from her days of living as a peasant in Ferelden. The black claws of his right hand gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

He smiled weakly at her.

"You loved your wife Daylen, I know that, and so did she," Leandra managed a weak smile, "We will see them again. Those we have lost. Have faith; take solace in that you will see your wife and child again."

His expression turned sad.

"They will be waiting a very long time I fear," he murmured, "This cell is my world now, until death finally grants me a pardon."

Leandra leaned forward and kissed his forehead, Daylen sobbed slightly.

"Thank you cousin," he murmured, "Thank you for not being afraid.

He managed a weak smile.

"Thank you for not giving up on me."

"Never," she promised, "I could not save my Carver, but perhaps…perhaps I can save you."

"Perhaps," he replied.

IOI

Their visit ended shortly after that, Leandra retrieved the books that Daylen had read, and left the new ones for him to start on.

When it came time for her to leave he kissed her hand with gratitude. She promised to see him soon.

Once she had left, the guards removed the manacles from his wrists. He rubbed circulation back into his wrists grateful to have the hard iron away from his person.

He considered getting started on one of his books, but decided against it.

He lay down on his small cot. Sleep came to him shortly after…

Sleep and another visitor.

In his dreams, Daylen Amell no longer existed; he was but a memory, a boy lost to time.

Here…in the fade…he was Death's Hand, the Viscount of Kirkwall.

Here, he was still free to give his soldiers their marching orders.

He dreamed of his throne room, his elite guards standing watch.

He dreamed of Neria, his mistress and closest ally.

"My Lord Death's Hand," the blood mage purred, "I await your command."

He sneered at her.

"I don't suppose you would kill yourself if I ordered it?"

She laughed lightly.

"If I die, you will lose the war."

"You cost me my wife," he snarled, "Your friend, our lover!"

Neria's ears lowered slightly in shame.

"I mourn Angelique," she cooed, "But I did warn you both. I advised you both to flee with me from Kirkwall. You both refused."

"**You abandoned us!" **

The elf's green eyes narrowed in anger.

"I preserved your army," she reminded him, "With every victory I win in your name, I convince more of your sister's enemies to ally with us. I have yet to lose a battle."

She pouted.

"A bit of bloody gratitude would be nice."

Death's Hand tried to rein in the emotions raging inside him. He could not decide if he wanted to kill the elf or throw her down and make love to her.

Love and hate were at war in him.

He rose from the throne and brushed her face with the tip of one hooked claw.

A small red line appeared on her cheek. She whimpered with pleasure, begging for his slightest touch.

His glare was cold and tortured.

"It was not just Angelique I lost that day," he whispered, "My child…my son…"

He almost sobbed.

"You said my son would sit on the throne of Kirkwall one day,** How can he do that if he is ash?!"**

Neria smiled shyly.

"Your son **will** sit on the throne one day Milord," she purred.

She began to open her robes.

"I have a surprise for you, something to give you hope in that dark place."

She let her robe fall away.

Death's Hand gasped.

Neria was as beautiful as he remembered, her pale skin, her firm body. She was practically glowing with triumph.

She took his clawed hand in hers, and placed it on her belly…

…The gentle swell of her belly.

Daylen sobbed. Part of him feared this a dream.

No…the Maker could not be that cruel!

"It is real milord," she whispered, "I have visited you many times here. The fade is a place of magic, and what is a mage if not magic? Do not doubt what you see. It is all true!"

Fire burned anew in his eyes.

_All was __**not l**__ost._

Neria smiled like a hungry predator.

"Your son will sit on the throne. **OUR** son." she promised, "He will grow to manhood and crush your sister beneath his heel. He will burn Kirkwall to the ground, and rule over the ashes! He will deal with all those who betrayed you my lord, my love."

Death's Hand shook his head; he felt new purpose fill him, strength bolstered by this small little life growing in his mistress.

It had not been for nothing! There was still hope!

He was not done yet!

New plans formed in his mind, beyond just having Neria harass his sister.

Kirkwall would burn, but it would not be his son who would burn it.

_It would be __**him!**_

He would cleanse Kirkwall of the traitors and cowards. He would purge it of the Qunari, mages, and Templars.

In the end, there would be nothing left but Death's Hand, and from the ashes of the fallen city, a new better Kirkwall would spring.

A Kirkwall that he would leave to his beloved son!

He was caged, he did not doubt that, but in time he would be free.

In time, he would stand in the sun again, and his roar would shake Kirkwall to the foundations!

It would shake, and then crumble.

He smiled at Neria.

"Continue my war love," he purred, "Ready our son for his throne."

The elf bowed.

"As you command my Viscount," she purred.

Daylen smiled.

"As Death's Hand commands."


	5. Precious Moments

**Chapter 5: Precious Moments**

It was a small tavern in Rivain, dirty and filled with those of questionable morals. It was a place not frequented by the supposedly wealthy and righteous, but even they had been known to come here sometimes, even they had vices that they wanted to see satisfied.

Two such customers sat at a small table in the back, the one was a dwarf, though dressed in finery, his eyes were wild, his beard unkept, though noble born he looked more like one of the half-mad dregs that frequented this place regularly.

His companion, a woman whose features were hid by both hood and cloak, was a bit of an enigma. Normally, such women would be preyed upon by the harder, and more ruthless, of the clientele here, but not this one. She radiated a dark power that though not visible, clearly gave even the most hardened predators' pause.

_None tried to attack her, none dared._

They knew a fellow predator when they saw one.

The dwarf gripped the carrying case tight to his breast; he looked around, more like a scared animal then a person.

The woman smiled her white teeth visible even under the darkness of her hood.

She held up a large sack, it rattled with the sound of many gold coins.

The dwarf eyed it hungrily.

"So we have a deal then?" he asked.

"Yes," the woman purred.

The dwarf moved to pull the coin closer to him, but paused carefully regarding the object he held so close to his chest.

"It is very precious you know, **very **precious," he babbled, "By far the most precious thing I have ever possessed, far more precious than even this tidy sum."

He giggled nervously.

"You are getting an extremely good deal here, **an extremely** good deal!"

The woman held out her hands. She had paid the fool's price…

Now…she wanted what was hers.

He gripped the package even closer to his chest.

"It is **very** precious," he repeated, "Worth more than gold. It is worth more than anything. It sings you see. It sings to me!"

The woman's eyes narrowed.

"Tis mine dwarf," she said coldly, "I have paid your price, now…give me what I have purchased.

He looked down at the gold and package cradled so lovingly in his arms.

It was more than just another commodity to be sold; it was more valuable to him than anything. It held a place in his heart, more important than his brother had ever been, more important than his family name or his sense of dwarven honor.

If he had had a child, the item would have been more valuable to him then even that! What did the restoration of his house matter when faced with losing the item in question?

He loved it, yet hated it, almost as much as he loved himself.

**No! No! He…he could **_**not **_**simply sell it!**

He pushed the gold away.

"I changed my mind," he murmured, "I…I cannot part with it! It…it would not like that! It wouldn't! I can't…"

Something glowed in the woman's eyes, something ageless and terrifying.

The dwarf tried to run but something pinned him in his place, he struggled like a fly stuck in amber.

The woman did not release him.

She glared coldly at him.

"Destiny waits for no one Bartrand Tethras," she growled, "Events occur, people die, and are born, tis necessary that things move along their proper path."

She looked at the bag in his arms.

She gestured, the bag pulled away from his grip and into her waiting lap.

Bartrand whimpered. He could not even reach for it that was the strength of the woman's control.

His heart shattered, it…it felt like he had lost his best friend. The song in his head became a dull whisper.

The woman's smile returned.

"I leave you with your precious gold little man, but this…this item has places to go, hands to pass into. The world sits on the edge of the abyss…"

The woman sneered.

"Tis time, to push it over the edge, and into that dark place, only then will we see who will fall and who can fly."

The dwarf finally took his gold, if he could not have it, at least he could have the money.

It was a dull consolation prize.

IOI

"Will…will I ever see it again?" he begged, "Please…I…I just might want to hear the song again."

The woman cackled.

"Tis possible I suppose," She purred, "This little item is needed in Kirkwall. It is going to set many things in motion, many, many things."

The woman's smirk was predatory, she savored what was to come, both what would come, and what might come.

_Was it fate or chance, she could never decide?_

She left him then, gripping it tight to her. She could sense the power within it, but did her best to block its effects.

This little bauble was not meant for her. It had another part to play in the grand scheme of things.

She would make sure that it got where it needed to go, and into the right hands.

Fate waited for no one…

It was time to put it back on the proper track.

IOI

Back in Kirkwall, Viscountess Amell, along with her entourage made their way down to the docks, so that they might greet the Grey Warden arrivals from Ferelden, this was the first time since the war that she had allowed visiting dignitaries into the city, and she wished this visit with both them, and her brother to go off without a hitch.

She travelled with a much larger guard than she ever had in the past, part of it was to protect the little life growing inside of her, but the rest was…

Well…

She hated to admit it, but she still had nightmares about her last journey down to the docks, then it had been to meet Angelique and Daylen, to greet their return after weeks of having suffered a breakdown. The attack that had followed that journey…

The Viscountess shivered.

Her poor Mother.

This was only the second time she had made this journey since her return to Kirkwall. The first time had been with Sebastian and a company of bodyguards. She had stood before the spot that her Mother had perished. The burn marks on the stone were faded, but she could almost make out the shapes of the people who had been caught in her out of control spell.

Her Mother…and several others, the blood mage Neria had been attacking her mind, filling it with voices and hallucinations. She…she had been so lost, so desperate, under attack both physically and mentally that she had lashed out with her magic, just trying to protect herself, not sure which enemies were real and which ones were imaginary.

She would carry that shame for the rest of her days.

Solona had fallen to her knees and cried. She had not been able to attend Mother's funeral, had not even been able to mourn until that moment. Sebastian pulled her to him and comforted her. He understood her pain, he had also been denied a chance to say goodbye to his own family. The conspirators who had slain them had piled the bodies in the courtyard of the palace and burned them, no funeral, just ashes scattered to the winds.

Once her tears had subsided, she laid one of her Mother's favorite flowers on the steps, it was not much of a memorial or apology, but it was the best that she could do.

Mother's passing had been her fault, but she was not the only one to blame. Neria and Daylen both deserved a share of it as well, the attack, her breakdown had all been part of their plans after all. Revka Amell had simply been caught in the crossfire.

Had Solona realized that at the time…Daylen likely would not have left this stairwell alive.

Their relationship was so complicated now; they were the last of the Amells, bound by the love of siblings and the hate of rivals.

_You can't kill me sister; we are all that __**we **__have left._

Daylen's last words before she had tossed him back into his cell still haunted her. Her brother, her greatest enemy, he was mad and dangerous, but he was also family. If she killed him, if she took that step, she feared that in that moment that she would become just like him. A tyrant that kills an enemy because of what he might do. She did not want to be that kind of ruler.

There…there had to be at least some place for mercy.

She tried to push such dark thoughts out of her mind; her little brother was not her only family after all. She still had Sebastian, and their little one on the way. Cousin Leandra, Bethany, and Garrett, and even though he was in Ferelden, she still had Marius.

Daylen was not the only family she had left. She would not let them go.

She needed them.

IOI

She put far more into this warden visit than she should have, but as with all things as a ruler it was necessary. The people had to see that she was still in power, that their Viscountess did not fear her own city. She had enemies sure, but they had not forced her to hide within the walls of keep.

This visit she hoped, would calm down some of the nobles that felt that she was hiding. Two more official visits had been scheduled before winter, as she attempted to rebuild the trust of their neighbors and undo the damage done by Daylen's anti-Solona propaganda.

The first was a trade meeting with Starkhaven, Prince Goran and she was to meet to formally sign the trade treaty that would restore relations between their two cities. The Prince had been very generous to her, helping deal with the starvation not only in the city, but also in the Ferelden refugee camps outside of it.

She had invited the leader of other Marcher cities as well, hoping that they would at least turn out in her support. Those that refused would reveal to her who were likely supporting her enemies, the renegade nobles that either sought her crown or still supported Daylen's claim.

She needed that knowledge.

The second meeting had been a bit of surprise to her. Several days ago she had received a letter from Empress Celene of Orlais, congratulating her on her return to the throne.

The letter came as a surprise; she had been under the impression that the Empress had not liked her all that much.

As she read on she began to understand the reason for such warm language.

The Empress desired a favor.

Orlais' relationship with Ferelden had suffered since the blight. A lot of bad feelings had been stirred up by Teyrn Loghain and his warmongering. Celene wished to use a Kirkwall as a neutral site to hold a summit between herself and King Alistair of Ferelden. She was aware of Solona's friendship with Lord Aedan Cousland and hoped that she might ply pressure to the warden and convince his friend the king to attend.

The Viscountess could not deny the value of such a summit; it would go a long way in convincing her nay-sayers that she did not have the strength to govern. If both Ferelden and Orlais recognized her legitimacy…it would be a major political coup.

Alas she only had Varric and Sebastian to discuss these plans with, and they agreed to support her, but she could not help but wonder what Brother Alec would have said. She had come to depend greatly on her old master's advice, now that he was gone…

It was yet another thing that Daylen had taken from her.

The Wardens, Starkhaven, the Orlesians and Fereldans, so many opportunities to redeem herself in the eyes of her people, or justify the lack of faith in her; it was a dangerous place that she now found herself.

She needed to proceed cautiously.

IOI

Her entourage finally emerged onto the docks; they could already see the Ferelden ship sitting in the harbor, the longboat carrying her brother and his party already making its way towards land.

Solona led the way as they went to greet them.

Among her guards and husband, Varric and the rest of the Hand's advisors accompanied him, this was the dwarf's first official function as her hand, and she wished all of Kirkwall to see that she had faith in him. Both Graydon Stark and Cousin Garrett had also agreed to make this journey, though Viscountess knew that their presence had nothing to do with the Grey Wardens, oh no.

There was someone they were both hoping to catch sight of, someone who was no doubt living in the Qunari compound, at least, Solona hoped she was still living.

Solona frowned.

They had heard nothing from the Tallis who had once been the Pirate Queen Isabela, it was most disheartening. The Viscountess had come to see the woman as both a friend and ally, and hoped that she was still well. Tallis had warned her that the Arishok might consider her tainted by her time travelling with Solona and her allies that he might even have had her executed.

The Viscountess prayed to the Maker that that was not the case. It would be a truly sad end to a truly good friend.

So neither man would admit it, both Garrett and Gray still had personal stake in the woman's future. She and Hawke had been lovers once, and Ser Graydon, well; she had got the feeling that he had had an interest in her as well. As far as she knew the Fereldan and the Qunari had not surrendered to those urges, but she seen enough pass between them to know that they both possessed them.

Her eyes fell on the Qunari compound as they passed by it, the cold implacable guards said nothing to any of the Viscountess's party, just watched, evaluating the strength of the men before them.

The Qunari was yet another problem she had to deal with, they had remained dormant now for over three years, but they were making no effort to try and leave her city, and thanks to Tallis she now knew why.

The Tome of Koslun, a sacred Qunari book was likely hidden somewhere in Kirkwall. The Qunari sought its location, and could not return to their home in Par Vollen without it. Tallis/Isabela had suspected the Daylen might have had it in his possession, but a search of both the Keep and his estate Hand's Hold had turned up nothing.

The book had once again…vanished.

That worried her, the Qunari had increased their patrols around the city, and she suspected that their converts were watching her and her men.

Solona had no wish to start another war. She had enough to deal with right now, between Daylen's forces and the dissident movement within the city.

If the Qunari turned violent, she was not sure her men had the numbers to defeat them. She still had Varric working his contacts trying to locate the missing tome.

The future of Kirkwall might just depend on it.

Her eyes fell over the rest of their, Sebastian gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Garrett and Gray were both still distracted by the Qunari compound. Athenril looked relaxed; the former smuggler gave her a curt nod. Bethany was…

Solona paused.

Ser Avery Howell was whispering in Bethany's ear, and her cousin was responding to what he was saying, even smiling a little.

The Viscountess did not let her emotions show, but that worried her somewhat.

She got Varric's attention.

"How long has that been going on?" she asked.

The dwarf looked up at her.

"What?" he asked.

"Avery's interest in Bethany," she murmured, "How long has it been going on?"

He glanced discreetly at the two nobles, his lip quirked slightly.

"Not sure," he admitted.

Solona sighed.

"Find out," she ordered.

"As you wish Your Highnessness."

Solona's hand brushed protectively over her belly, it might have been her imagination, but she suspected that the baby might have kicked.

A sense of fondness washed over her.

She tried to put negative thoughts aside for now.

She glanced down at Varric, one of her oldest friends here in Kirkwall.

"Are you enjoying your new position?"

He chuckled.

"The nobles don't like coming down to the Hanged Man to visit with me when they have things to discuss," he said, "Most think I would be better served at the Violet Hem, or in some estate in Hightown."

"I'm sure they do," Solona smiled, "How many have tried to bribe you?"

"Six," he replied.

"That few," she arching her eyebrow, "What did they say when you told them no."

He gave her a sarcastic smile.

"I was supposed to say no?"

She shot him a look.

He busted out laughing.

"Just screwing with you Your Highnessness," he cackled

She gave him an amused frown.

"You should not tease a pregnant woman," she warned him, "I might take things out of proportion."

"You did want me in this job," he reminded her.

She chuckled.

Varric was not like Daylen in his duties as Hand, he was not just an enforcer. She did not think that the dwarf would take any guff, but at the same time he would not go for the blades when something more subtle could be used to eliminate a threat.

She needed that right now.

The warden boat bumped as it settled on the shore. Four figures emerged.

Solona recognized two of them immediately.

Marius Amell, her elder brother was tall, his dark hair and intense blue eyes taking all that he saw, as a mage he had spent most of his time in Kirkwall locked in the Gallows, the wardens had saved his life, but that did not mean that he still did not possess at least some hard feelings for the Templars.

The second was small woman in heavy plate, her short dark hair and hard features spoke of a life used to command and not being denied.

She gave one of her rare smiles as she noticed a member of Solona's entourage.

"Aveline," she purred.

The guard captain grinned and embraced the smaller woman.

"Hello Leonie," she replied, "It has been a long time."

"Far too long my friend," the Orlesian born warden said with a grin.

Following them were two wardens that the Viscountess did not recognize. The first was a small blond elven woman in a gambeson similar to Marius', another mage she supposed. By the tattoos on the woman's face she guessed her one of the Dalish folk. Next to her stood a man in black leather's a longbow strapped to his back.

Ser Avery stepped forward, extending his hand.

"Lord Howe…welcome," he exclaimed.

The man in black leathers turned, his eyes widened in shock.

"Ser Avery Howell at your service, Milord," Avery said quickly.

The warden in black shook his hand, still speechless.

Solona watched the exchange, she had never seen…

Wait…did Avery say the man's name was Howe?

…As in Rendon Howe, the Butcher of Highever?

She turned to Leonie; hopefully Aedan's second in command would have some answers.

"Viscountees Am-ell," the Orlesian said, "allow me to introduce two of my fellow wardens to you. This is Nathaniel and his wife Velanna."

Avery's eyebrow went up at the mention of the man's companion.

"Wife?" he murmured to Nathaniel.

The elf's eyes narrowed.

"Do you have a problem with that human?" she said in a lethal purr.

Nathaniel glanced her way.

"He meant no disrespect, Milady" Nathaniel said trying to console her, "Did you…Ser Avery was it?"

The Fereldan knight smiled.

"None at all," he said.

The Viscountess turned to the new arrivals and Ser Avery.

"I was unaware that you knew the Howes of Amaranthine Ser Avery," she said thoughtfully.

Avery chuckled.

"I was born in Amaranthine Your Excellency," he purred, "Like all nobles in that fine city; most of us are related by blood or marriage, as you can no doubt tell, by the resemblance between Nathaniel and myself."

She glanced at the two men, yes, she could see it, Avery wore his hair short, and had grown a goatee and mustache, but she could indeed see resemblance between the two men.

Interesting.

"No greeting for me sister?"

Solona smiled and embraced her older brother. Marius pulled away with a smile…

He regarded her condition.

"Maker…you are huge."

She gave him a cross look.

"That is not the nicest thing to say brother."

He chuckled.

"I meant no disrespect, merely on observation."

He turned to Sebastian.

"I congratulate you both; this is a happy time for House Amell."

"Thank you warden," Sebastian said with a slight bow.

"Please, call me Marius brother. We are family after all. We…"

Marius's eyes suddenly turned cold, his lip twisted like he had just tasted something foul.

He looked right at Solona.

"Speaking of family."

She crossed her hands before her.

She knew who he was referring to.

"Where is the little bastard?"

"The dungeons," she said coldly.

"I would like a word with him if I could."

"Marius," Solona warned.

"He will not be harmed sister, have no fear," the warden said, "I just want to look him in the eye, and demand answers."

"You might not like what you hear," Sebastian warned his brother-in-law.

Marius's mouth became a grim line.

"I will risk it."

IOI

The group made its way back to the Keep. Aveline chatting excitedly with Leonie, while Solona and Marius conversed in warm tones. Hawke and Ser Graydon shot one final look at the Qunari compound as the passed by.

The guards there said nothing.

Velanna spoke with Bethany, the elf had heard some about the Amell family from their commander, and was curious what was true and what was not.

Ser Avery and Nathaniel Howe walked together. The knight had an amused look on his face; the warden archer just looked troubled.

"When were you ever knighted?" he asked.

Avery chuckled.

"Ser Avery Howell was a good man Nate," he replied in a whisper, "I thought it best to honor him, while I proceeded with my own plans."

Nathaniel shook his head.

"I thought you dead," he murmured.

"You thought right," Avery responded, "Who I was died long ago."

The warden almost seized the younger man by the shoulders.

"Tom," he whispered, "What in the void is going on?"

Ser Avery Howell, also known as Thomas Howe smiled.

"Come to the Violet Hem in Hightown tonight," he murmured, "I will explain everything then."

Nathaniel Howe still could not believe it, his heart raced, his mind spun.

He had come to support his friends…

He had not expected this.

"It is good to see you again," the warden said quietly.

Avery sighed.

"Indeed it is brother, indeed it is."


	6. The Red Lady

**Chapter 6: The Red Lady**

In yet another of the many Tevinter Ruins in the Free Marches, yet another war council was taking place.

The air was heavy in the dark place; the light from the many torches did little to push back the gloom. The main chamber had been cleared for tonight's meeting; the giant spiders that had infested this ruin now lay dead in one of the abandoned halls.

Eight noblemen sat around the old stone table, each had a single bodyguard to protect his person, no more of their men were allowed to attend, lest anyone attempt any treachery against the lady who had called this gathering.

Two men stood at attention at the front of the chamber, these were the lady's personal protectors and guards. The first man was tall and muscularly built; once upon a time he had been one of the bards of Orlais, travelling the empire masquerading as a strong man for troupe of actors and storytellers while they spied for their noble patrons.

_He had found a new line of work._

Next to him stood a small man with very bland features, if not for the armor he wore he would likely blend in with either servant or soldier, but that was the point. He was unnoticeable, and had used that to his advantage many times. In the four months that Death's Hand had ruled Kirkwall the man had dealt with several of the Viscount's enemies without anyone even knowing he was there.

He had once been a common sell-sword, a member of the Winters mercenary company. He had been…elevated in status in the weeks following the battle of Kirkwall.

_Now he served the Red Lady, as they all did._

Red cloaked Viscount's Guards stood sentinel for the meeting, their blank empty eyes showed no emotion as they watched over the safety of the lords in attendance. These men had also been touched by the blood magic that their lady wielded. She had taken away everything that had made them the men they had once been. They felt no fear. They knew no pain. They lived to serve their master, and awaited the day that he was freed from the dungeons of Kirkwall.

For now, they served the last of his free advisors, the only one who had remained loyal.

The doors to the chambers she had claimed opened.

All but one of the nobles rose as she entered, he remained in his chair watching her enter with an insolent smirk.

Neria Surana, once the mistress of Daylen Amell, maleficar, and leader of his forces made note of that.

_It was not wise to gain her ire._

She was small even for an elven woman; her dark red hair was cut short and one up in many tiny braids, her skin pale and flawless. She was not beautiful, but possessed a cuteness that got the attention of both men and women. She carried herself in a way that did not reveal the dark powers that flowed through her. Few would imagine that she was a powerful blood mage, at least until they felt her wrath first hand.

Though of elven blood, the men in this room had come to respect her leadership, well, most of them anyway. Though she was not a military genius, she trusted in those who had skills in that area and rewarded them for their work on her behalf.

Neria now spoke for Death's Hand in the matter of the War of Lions. She was both his mouth and his emissary, and…

She was carrying his child.

She smiled sweetly as she took her place at the head of the table.

"I see we have two new faces join us today," she purred.

The two noblemen regarded her carefully; one bowed respectfully, the other, the insolent one simply shrugged.

"I offer you both greetings and what hospitality I can offer. You are both welcome here."

The younger one, the most eager of the pair spoke first.

"Lady Neria, I'm Willem, formally of House Morden of Tantervale. I served under Ser Roderick until recently."

The blood mage smirked.

"I know of Ser Roderick," she replied, "He believed that he was better than the Amells. That he could do better as Viscount then either member of the royal family ever could."

Neria chuckled.

"Ser Graydon Stark killed him a few days ago didn't he? His head is on a pike outside of the gates of Kirkwall?"

Willem nodded, he had heard that as well.

"Yet, another would be Viscount gone," Neria said running her finger along edge of the stone table.

"I keep hoping that the usurper Solona Amell's enemies will realize before it's too late that my lord Daylen is the rightful ruler of Kirkwall. That if we all stood together under me, we could not only liberate fair Kirkwall from her grasp, but restore my lord to his rightful throne."

"Why you?"

The question surprised the elf; it had come from the second man to join them. A low-level Count from Kirkwall, Roehm, she believed his name was.

The elf's eyes narrowed slightly.

Such a question did not suggest a willingness to join their cause.

Perhaps, joining was not his plan. Perhaps he intended to take over from her.

That had happened few times since she had been forced to flee Kirkwall. Some of the nobles who still followed Death's Hand did not believe that a knife-ear had the right to tell them what to do.

Neria sighed.

It seemed that she would possibly have to make yet another example of this fool.

"Count Roehm is it not?" she asked.

The man nodded.

"Surana," the man said with a sigh.

The man with the bland features began to draw his weapon.

"Lady Surana," he hissed, correcting the nobleman.

"Very well," the Count shrugged, "Lady Surana, I bring word from my agents within Kirkwall. You should listen to what I have to say."

Her two guards tensed, waiting for their mistress's orders…

Waiting to end the fool's life…

It was an order she was not willing to give, at least not yet.

She smiled at her guest.

"You must forgive Francois and Stanley, Milord Count," the elf purred, "They value my position as the Lord Daylen's emissary, and do not like it when his orders are questioned. By all means Milord speak, I'm most eager to hear what you have to say."

The nobleman shrugged.

"Death's Hand trusted you," the Count began, "and you have proven yourself a thorn in the hand of Solona Amell and her allies, but these raids of yours will not give you what you seek."

The elven woman's smile widened.

"You do not know my plans Milord, but please continue."

The Count sniffed.

"Death's Hand is a prisoner within the Viscount's Keep. He is under heavy guard and your agents have no chance of freeing him. Meanwhile, you are living on borrowed time, the Templars have not yet taken an interest in you, but that will likely change if you push towards reclaiming your master's throne. My men have also intercepted missives between the Viscountess Amell and the office of the Divine in Orlais, requesting that a company of Chantry Seekers be sent to deal with you."

Neria chuckled.

"I had not realized that I had become that big of problem for Lady Lona."

"This is no joke elf,' the Count snapped, "All that you have accomplished will be wasted, has been wasted, if you continue down this path."

"And you have a suggestion?"

"I do," the nobleman smiled.

She gestured for him to continue.

The man, in his avarice, ignored the sarcasm in the gesture.

He pushed on towards his claim, what he likely felt was his rightful claim.

"The Amell line is broken Milady. It has been tainted with madness. Solona has proven weak in the past, hearing voices and seeing enemies that weren't there."

Neria did not respond. She knew the truth about Solona Amell's bout of madness, and what had caused it.

She saw no point in enlightening the count on things that were not his business.

_It was none of his business._

"Death's Hand, Lord Daylen Amell is a broken man, weeping in his cell for the loss of wife and unborn child. The death of Viscountess Angelique has doomed his line; Death's Hand has no heirs. He is no longer worthy of being called Viscount."

The Count sat up straighter in his chair.

"I am."

Neria clicked her tongue.

_Another pretender rears up his head, how nice._

"The seekers will run you to ground Milady," the Count said, "You do not have the manpower or coin to fight both Solona Amell and the might of the Chantry. If you swear fealty to me, if you convince your men to abandon Death's Hand, I will see that you are well-protected from the chantry's hunters. You will be well cared for in my new order. Between the two of us we can force the pretenders to the throne to stand down. Elthina will call off the chantry's attack dogs if they believe you neutralized."

The Count gave her a cunning smile.

"I'm a generous man Milady, I honor those who serve me well, and I have heard that you are a very good servant."

Neria smirked at him.

"So that is your proposal that I should surrender to you because you can protect me?"

"The big fish eat the little fish in war elf," the Count said coldly, "And I'm a very big fish."

The elf shook her head.

_Maker…where did these men come from?_

_She supposed she would never know._

"I must refuse Milord," she purred, "I am not just Death's Hand's servant, but his staunchest of allies, and besides…"

The elf rose, and smoothed out her robes. The look of shock on the man's face as he saw her condition amused her.

"As you can see Lord Count," she sneered, "the Viscount Daylen is not without an heir. You will swear fealty to me here in the name of my lord and his child, or…you will not leave this chamber alive."

The Count rose angrily from his chair, his face red and blotchy. His guard started to draw his blade.

Willem tried to stop him.

"Milord don't," the young man warned.

The count was too angry to pay attention. Neria had insulted his noble honor.

He intended to see her answer.

"I WILL NOT BE TALKED DOWN TO BY A KNIFE EAR!" he growled.

Stanley and Francois moved to support their leader; again Neria stopped them with a raised hand.

He spun looking at the other gathered nobles.

"You know my power. I have friends in Kirkwall. This little bitch will lead you to ruin. I command that you kill her and I will show you true victory!"

IOI

The nobles glanced at each other; they knew Count Roehm as a man who did not like being denied what he wanted…

But they knew Neria too, the elf, though not noble born had outfoxed Solona Amell and her loyalist. They had also seen the extent of her magic.

If she thought that Roehm could not defeat her, they would not risk crossing her.

Death's Hand trusted her that was all that mattered.

None rose to support the Count.

IOI

Neria's smirk widened.

"It seems you made a mistake coming here," she purred, "Join me or die."

The Count laughed.

"You think I'm afraid of you?"

"I think you are too stupid to be," she said giving him her most predatory look.

The count was still unafraid.

"If I die here, my sons will make life difficult for you elf," he warned, "Solona Amell will not be your only enemy then…"

"I don't fear her and I don't fear you," Neria said settling back down into her chair, "Death's Hand will rule Kirkwall again, our son will sit on the throne, and you will be ash long before that occurs."

"Death's Hand is nothing!" the count roared angrily, "And the bastard son of his elven whore will never sit on the throne of Kirkwall! You will…"

Neria had heard enough.

She gestured.

Four shades slithered out of the shadows. They fell on Count Roehm and his body guard. The demon's magic robbed the men of their will to fight, bringing wails of despair to their lips.

What came next was more terrifying.

The sound of tearing flesh and armor, the shades feasted on the fool and his bodyguard.

Neria watched with amusement, her nobles paled, one even vomited.

The elf's green eyes twinkled with malice and pleasure.

"You asked why me Milord Count," she said to the screaming mass of meat on the floor of the chamber, "You asked why I should lead Death's Hand's armies in war."

The elf stroked her belly, a contented look on her face, but a hungry light burned in her eyes.

She sneered at the nobles who had chosen to support her.

"Why should I lead?" she asked rhetorically…

"Because no one can stop me."

The elf closed her eyes then savoring the sounds of death, and hunger being sated.

It was the sweetest of music to her ears.

The sound of the future being born.

IOI

Later that night she sat in her chambers enjoying her evening meal.

The remains of that fool Roehm had been removed. Willem and his men had agreed to support her. His first act as one of her servants was to slay all the men that Roehm had brought with him, including one of his sons.

Their heads would be sent back to their families as a warning.

Kirkwall belonged to Death's Hand and his family.

All of the Free Marches would learn that soon enough.

Neria ate in an unhurried manner; it was unusual for one such as her. She had spent her whole life as a servant, serving first House Poole, then Lord Daylen, having time for herself was felt strange, knowing that she did not have to rush through her meal and return to her duties seemed odd to her.

Of course, she was eating for two now, she recognized the fact that the welfare of her child now took precedence.

She brushed her hand over the life growing inside her.

"Your Father will be free little one," she cooed, "He will show you a new world, a world that you will one day inherit."

She chuckled.

"You will never have to bow to anyone. People will serve you, my darling. They will serve or be broken."

"Milady?"

Neria jumped. She coughed.

"Stanley," she spat.

The bland faced mercenary smiled at her.

"What have I told you about sneaking up on me?"

"Don't," he said with amusement.

She glared at him.

She recognized that there was no malice in Stanley's actions, the man simply enjoyed showing off his skills.

She preferred he do it on her enemies.

She shook her head and willed her heart to slow down to a normal rhythm.

"Speak," she said.

"The men have returned from the raid on the Dalish camp outside of Kirkwall," he reported.

The elf nodded.

"And?"

"And, they have acquired your prize Milady."

Neria smiled. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and rose.

Stanley fell in behind her as they went up the stairs leading to the surface.

She was eager to see her latest acquisition herself.

"Did the Dalish give the men any problems?" she asked.

"We were fortunate," he said, "We caught the boy a bit far from their camp, I get the feeling he was not well liked among the elves. Not that I blame them, if he is everything Milady claims, he is very dangerous."

Neria chuckled.

"Power and fear go hand in hand," she informed her guard, "And this one has power to spare."

Her expression turned predatory.

"He will serve me well, once he has been properly educated."

Stanley smiled slightly.

"Will you reeducate him Milady?"

Neria shook her head.

"I can't," she said, "He is more valuable to me if he serves willingly. No…I cannot remake him as I did my elites or Lord Bradley. This…this requires a great deal more on my part.

"Sometimes you catch more flies with honey than you do with a fireball."

Stanley nodded.

"As Milady wishes."

The men defending their current camp bowed as Neria swept by them, word about what happened to the count already had reached their ears.

Their respect, and fear, for the elf had increased five-fold.

Francois stood beside the prize they had acquired from the Dalish, a young boy, in his late teens early twenties.

Not much older than Neria herself truth be told, and in possession of great power.

The elf felt the hunger within her burn brighter.

What a weapon they had just acquired. She had first heard about him while listening to Lord Garrett talking at dinner in the keep one night. She had thought about acquiring him before this, but her duties in Kirkwall had prevented her from doing that.

Now, she had the time to devote her attention to the boy.

He would be most useful.

The boy gave her a scared look, scared and suspicious.

"Who are you?" he asked, "Why have you taken me?"

Neria smiled warmly at him.

"My apologies serah," she said with a slight bow, "I noticed you a few days ago outside of Kirkwall. My men thought you a captive of the Dalish. If they were wrong, I apologize."

"I ordered that none of the Dalish were to be harmed," she turned to leader of the raid.

"That order was obeyed?"

"Yes Milady," he replied.

She smiled at her guest.

"See, we are all friends here."

The boy seemed taken aback by that.

"You…you were trying to help me…why?"

She gave him a conspiratory wink.

"We apostates have to stick together," she said, "Kirkwall is a dangerous place for our kind. These men served my lord who promised my safety."

She offered him her hand.

"I would extend the same courtesy to you my friend."

The boy swallowed, he took her hand cautiously.

Neria was pleased.

The boy was not a total fool that was good. He would need a bit of suspicion to master his powers. Famish, her patron and master, had been watching the boy in the fade.

He was most intrigued.

"I'm Neria Surana," she said.

The boy's eyes widened slightly.

"You are the blood mage," he gasped, "The red witch."

IOI

Her face turned sorrowful.

"You know how cruel humans can be," she murmured, "They gave me that foul nickname. They want people to be afraid of me. You understand what that is like don't you?"

The boy slowly nodded. He understood why people were afraid of him.

Maker knew…he was afraid of himself sometimes.

"I mean no disrespect Milady," he replied.

"I take no offense," the elven woman said, "A mage is used to such slander."

He relaxed a bit. Despite what he had heard from the Dalish the woman did not seem to be that bad. Of course, they had no love for those they called flat-ears.

The Keeper had been trying to help him, but the clan was not like him.

"And please," the woman said, "Call me Neria."

He smiled slightly.

"Pleased to meet you Mil…Neria," he said with a nervous squeak, "My name is Feynriel."

IOI

Neria Surana smiled.

She already knew who the boy was, and soon all of Kirkwall would as well.

The boy was going to be very useful to their cause…

_Very useful._


	7. Who We Are

**Chapter 7: Who We Are**

It was yet another late night for the Viscountess.

Solona made her way down the halls of the Keep; the guards said nothing to her as she passed, for them this was an old ritual. The ruler of Kirkwall had never found sleep easily, and often she made her way down to the Amell family dining room, enjoying a moment of solitude in the wee hours of the morning.

Had Sebastian still been in the keep she might have made an attempt to fall back asleep, but unfortunately her husband was not, he had travelled to Starkhaven under heavy guard, after his last attempt to travel to the city of his birth Solona took no chances.

Sebastian had not wanted to go, not with his wife being with child, but understood the need of making things ready for the prince's upcoming visit. She had done her best to convince him that it was in their best interest. She would be fine here, protected by their many allies.

Women had endured pregnancy since the very beginning after all. Solona would be fine.

Truthfully she was feeling better tonight; the bouts of morning sickness she had suffered early on had finally passed. She was grateful that her stomach was finally behaving itself again.

All that kept her up now…was the matters of the day.

Outside the city combat continued, the neighboring cities had not been drawn into the war of lions…at least not publicly. Whether nobles from those cities were banking the ones fighting her now was possible she supposed. Graydon and Fenris were doing what they could for her in the field. She had asked neither man to fight for her, but both had taken up the Amell banner in her name.

She was grateful to them both for that.

"Good evening mistress," A shy voice emerged from the hall.

She looked up to find a small elven girl standing there, dressed in court clothes.

"Orana," the Viscountess smiled, "What are you doing still awake?"

"Anticipating your whims Mistress," the elf responded with a slight curtsey, "I am here to see if you require anything this eve."

Solona chuckled. Orana had been among the house servants that she had liberated from the Magister Hadriana, her father often spoke for them when they needed an advocate, and currently held a prize position in the kitchens, the man was a skilled cook. Orana did not possess his skills, but she was extremely loyal to Solona, which of course allowed her to rise up quickly to the position of first of the handmaidens.

The elf had helped see her through the worst of her morning sickness bringing her things to help settle her stomach, now it seemed the girl had developed her mistress's sleep patterns as well.

The Viscountess felt a little sorry for that.

"I'm on my way to the dining room," she said, "A cup of tea would be nice."

"Yes mistress," the elf curtseyed again, "Shall I bring the pot for your guests as well?"

Solona's brow furrowed.

Guests?

She opened the door to the usually quiet dining room to find a most unusual sight. The dinner table was packed. Bethany sat in her usual place, conversing quietly with Ser Graydon. Marius sat near the head of the table going over some paperwork with Serene.

The Viscountess cleared her throat loudly.

Everyone rose and whispered the various greetings.

Solona chuckled.

"Sorry I could not resist," she smirked, "Does no one sleep around here anymore?"

Bethany chuckled.

"I did not mean to disturb you cousin," Bethany said quietly, "but today has been busy. Gray and I still had things to discuss, but I had to wait until I could put Carver down for the night."

"Is he sleeping better now?" she inquired.

"He slept through his first full night two days ago," the young mother smiled, "One of the servants is watching him if he needs me."

Solona felt a twinge of sadness for Bethany; it seemed that her once optimistic cousin had fallen into a very dark place in the last few months. The only time she smiled now was around her little son.

Regret filled the Viscountess.

Had she not fled, she might have prevented Daylen doing what he had done to Bethany's husband. Perhaps Perrin Bradley would still be alive today.

His loss had hit her cousin very hard, and even now Bethany Hawke-Bradley had not recovered fully from it.

"As a soldier, I'm used to late night meetings Your Grace," Ser Graydon Stark said quietly, "Besides, I'm still adapting to life in Hightown, the finery of this place…it is still a bit…uncomfortable for me."

Serene giggled.

"Spent too many nights sleeping on the cold ground ser knight?"

Gray smiled.

"Exactly that Milady, exactly that," the knight said, "Brunt does not seem to mind though, he loves nothing more to stretch out on my bed and not allow anyone near it."

Solona chuckled.

"Has your dog claimed your home here for his own then?"

"Sometimes I think he sees himself as the master, and me as the second," the dark haired man chuckled, "You would be surprised how protective a Mabari can be of when he claims something."

Serene's ears twitched with amusement.

"Remind me never to buy a Mabari," she murmured.

Solona glanced at the red-eyed elf. Gray and Bethany's reasons for being here were sound; she wondered what had brought the bard out at this late hour.

She produced several pieces of parchment from a pouch at her side.

"Varric…I mean the hand asked me to bring these to you," the elf said handing them to the Viscountess, "I was to place them in your hands alone."

Solona nodded.

"This could not have waited until morning?"

The bard gave her a chagrinned look.

"Varric continues to conduct his business from the Hanged Man Your Excellency, business there tends to run quite late. This is the Hand's busiest time of the day as you can imagine."

The ruler nodded, she understood the value of Varric using his old base of operation as he conducted business on her behalf. If any noble or merchant wished to speak with him they had to meet him on his terms, meeting in the Hanged Man gave Varric the advantage in any negotiation.

She was a bit surprised by his choice to involve Serene in his work, sure she lived in the Hanged Man as well, but…

"How much is Varric paying you for your services?"

The elf seemed taken aback by that suggestion, she snorted.

"Varric, the Lord Hand is paying me nothing, he already arranged for me to have free room and board. The least I can do is offer my skills in his service."

The bard gave her a sly smile.

"If you wish me to ply my trade again for you, I'm certain we can come up with a fair financial arrangement."

Solona shook her head.

There was the mercenary attitude she had come to expect from the elf.

"I will put your talents to good use," she said, "Though I am a bit surprised you have not returned to Orlais yet."

The elf's ears lowered slightly.

"I…I have nothing to go back to Orlais," she admitted, "I do not have Master Benoit's contacts. I would likely have to start over from scratch in the empire. Plus, some of my master's old allies might think me responsible for his death. In Kirkwall, I at least have patrons."

The elf sighed happily.

"Varric will protect me and Lord Hawke of course."

Solona caught Gray and Bethany shoot each other a look. Solona said nothing.

She believed that she understood the elf's motivations now.

Serene excused herself and fled the keep.

Once she was out of earshot Bethany smiled.

"She is in love with him," the mage murmured, "That is so cute."

"Are certain?" Gray asked, "She is a bard after all. They know how to manipulate people."

Solona sighed.

"Maybe I should warn Varric," the Viscountess said, "Convince him to let the girl down easy."

Bethany gave her a hard look.

"You should do no such thing cousin," she warned, "This is between Varric and Serene."

"She is a child," Solona said.

"She is a sixteen year old girl," Bethany said.

"Exactly, she is a girl, a very dangerous girl. Varric does not need some angry teenager doing something in a fit of pique."

Bethany smiled.

"Tell me cousin, how old were you when you first saw Sebastian?"

Solona's eyes narrowed.

"That is not the point."

"Seventeen, eighteen maybe…"

"I had just turned eighteen."

"My point exactly," Bethany smiled.

"Hush you."

The Viscountess turned to Marius, her older brother had been very quiet this evening. He looked both weary and troubled.

"What of you brother?" she asked, "What has you up at this late hour."

Marius shifted in his chair.

"I do not sleep easily cousin," Marius said thoughtfully, "The darkspawn are with me constantly. Even in my dreams, I cannot escape them."

He likely saw a bit of regret flash over her face.

"I do not blame you," he added quickly, "In the last few years I have enjoyed more freedom than I ever had. I have friends in Amaranthine, people that I care about. I even have…"

Her normally stoic brother blushed a little.

"You don't need to hear about her."

Solona chuckled.

So her big brother had met someone that was good.

He deserved at least some kind of happiness.

The coolness of his expression returned quickly.

"I spent some time with our brother this evening. The experience…it has left a bad taste in my mouth.

Solona did not respond. She did not need to.

Daylen had that effect on people these days.

Marius shook his head.

"I barely recognize him anymore," he admitted, "He…he is not the little boy that followed so dutifully in our Father's wake anymore. The boy that you could at least reason with…"

The Viscountess shook her head.

"I take it that Death's Hand was not happy to see you then?"

Marius sighed.

"He accused me of taking your side that I only seek to further warden interests in Kirkwall, that I might just conscript him out of spite, to deny our people their rightful ruler."

The warden rolled his eyes.

"If you wish it, I will conscript him into the order; take him off your hands. If he makes it through our initiation he will spend the rest of his life being broken of this mad ambition that has swallowed his soul."

Solona held him in a firm gaze.

"I would rather that you not," she said, "I would much rather keep Death's Hand where I can watch him. Besides, you should not underestimate our brother. He is far more cunning than you might expect. If he was to join the wardens, I would not be surprised if he would quickly rise in rank, that one day he might use his position to attack me again in some way."

The Viscountess frowned.

"No, brother, he should stay right where he is."

"As you wish," Marius nodded, "by the way, I can't help but notice you refer to him more and more by that nickname of his rather than his given name, may I ask why?"

She responded by opening her robe, and showing him the faded marks on her shoulder, magic had healed her well, but traces of the tear left by her brother's claws remained.

Everyone at the table winced at the sight.

"I refer to him as Death's Hand because that is who he is;" she began, "Perhaps that is all he has ever been. It would be easy to blame everything that happened on Angelique Poole and Neria Surana, but I can't, not given what my brother did to try and take the throne from me.

"Daylen chose to walk the path he did. Everything he did was to serve his own ambitions, despite what he says to the contrary. Kirkwall was the farthest thing from his mind when he tried to have Sebastian killed and me driven mad. His ambition has done more harm to our home than the Threnholds ever did. Now I have many enemies openly attacking us, fed by Daylen's own madness. Every time one pretender falls two more spring up to replace him. I fear that this war will go on for years, and all of Kirkwall will suffer for it."

Gray's expression turned thoughtful.

"If we could find a way to lure all of them together, not just the leaders but the armies as well, we could avoid all that."

Solona looked at the knight.

"You are talking about a surprise attack?"

"I'm talking about a trap," Gray clarified, he shifted uncomfortably, "Similar to what Teyrn Loghain set for good King Cailan's nobles at Ostagar."

"And that worked out so well," Solona said dryly.

"It **did** actually," Gray said, "the Bannorn could not stand against him after Ostagar, had it not been for the Blight…"

"You think they would all just lay down their arms if I offered meet with them all, to offer them pardon?"

The knight's expression turned grim.

"I'm afraid it has gone beyond the point of pardon Your Grace," he said, "The renegades have developed a taste for power, and it won't be satisfied by returning to their old lives.

"They would not accept, offer them instead…a chance to defeat you, lure them all in, and close the box. Let none escape, even if they swore that they would return to their old lives."

"They should not be allowed to return, none of them," Bethany said coldly, "They have taken up arms against House Amell. They are a threat, and Daylen's witch does not deserve pardon for what she has done."

Solona gave both the knight and Bethany a warning look.

"You believe that I should behave like your Teyrn Loghain, Gray?

The knight did not respond.

"You believe I should behave like Death's Hand, cousin?"

Bethany pursed her lips in distaste.

"It would end the war," Bethany shrugged.

"And what would it do to us?" the Viscountess asked.

She looked for Marius for support.

_She did not find it._

"They have a point sister," Marius replied.

She looked shocked.

"I do not approve," she snapped.

"You don't need to," her older brother shrugged, "You only have to accept what needs to be done."

"Father would never have done that!" she growled, "Such a trap…such an act of betrayal could turn all the nobles that have remained neutral in this war against us. It could turn our allies against us."

"Or scare them back into line," Gray added.

"We will **not** speak of this again," The Viscountess said, "We. Will. NOT. We will continue to hunt Daylen's witch, and deal with our enemies as we have been. It may prolong the conflict, but we might actually gain converts among the rebels. If I can end this without tremendous loss of life I shall."

The three sitting beside her did not respond right away.

Solona understood Gray and Marius; they were both soldiers, but Bethany supporting this…

_Is this what losing Perrin had done to her poor cousin?_

Another crime to lay at her little brother's feet, the loss of Bethany Hawke's innocence.

Solona rose, no longer in the mood for company.

"I understand making hard choices," she said flatly, "But I have no desire to wash my hands in the blood of my enemies. My Father did not need to result to the tactics of a tyrant, and neither shall I."

She glared at her friends and family.

"This is not who we are, nor who we want to be."

She strode from the dining room with cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.

It was not caused by what she had heard; it was caused by what she had felt.

Part of her…it…it approved of what Marius and the others had suggested.

The very thought sickened her.

She had trapped Hadriana sure, but she had left the magister alive, what the others were suggesting…

She had taken up arms against her own brother to remove a tyrant from the throne of Kirkwall, a danger to all of the Free Marches.

She had no desire to become one herself.


	8. House Howe

**Chapter 8: House Howe**

Earlier that evening Wardens Nathaniel Howe and his wife Velanna found themselves entering _the Violet Hem_. The host seemed taken aback by the pair at first, Nathaniel in his black leather armor and his wife in her blue and silver warden gambeson, but of course said nothing.

Discretion was one of the hallmarks of _the Violet Hem_, the two were both guests of Ser Avery Howell, and they would be treated as such.

Nathaniel glanced around the place, he remembered it of course, he had squired here in the Free Marches for a time, even spent a few months in Kirkwall.

Located between the dwarven quarter and Viscount's Way, _The Hem_ had always been a place of the nobility, the food and drink was both excellent and expensive, attracting the most famous and most wealthy of Kirkwall citizens, to dine here was as much a status symbol as it was an experience.

Lords and merchants came here to dine and discuss business, in a place that was both luxurious and secure from those they viewed as their lesser.

It was also a place of polar opposites. It was a place to be seen and to see those in power, but it was also a place of schemes and plots. The Hem was extremely protective of her clientele's privacy, even going so far as to kill a server who had let secrets that he had heard go beyond the walls of the establishment, at least that was what rumor said.

Nathaniel had never been in here before. He had always seen himself as a practical man, above scheming and politics, he knew the game sure, but preferred to leave its playing to his Father and Thomas.

The thought made him shiver.

_Perhaps if he had been more politically motivated, House Howe would not be in the state it was today._

It was a regret, one of the few he still maintained, but it had faded as the years had passed. He could not bring back what they had under his Father, and part of him no longer wanted to. He was a Grey Warden, and had gained a small measure of fame as one. His recent rescue of Teyrn Fergus Cousland during a darkspawn raid had earned him the respect of his childhood friend, a man who for the last several years had seen Nathaniel as an enemy. If he could change Fergus's mind, then he could likely change others.

The Teyrn had offered him reward for his actions, but Nathaniel had refused, as a warden it was his duty to protect people from darkspawn. Fergus was not to be dissuaded, he had left a small track of formerly Howe controlled lands to be held in trust until Nathaniel's nephew came of age. They would be held in stewardship for Delilah and Albert's son until he was old enough to take up the position of lord over them.

Nathaniel had almost laughed when he told Delilah about that, the look on her face had been priceless.

His sister, Delilah, was happy. She and her merchant husband had been blessed with a strong young son, and the business that they managed was thriving. Delilah had all but given up on her noble roots, learning that her son would be a lord one day pleased her, but she was not about to abandon her life with her husband for that. She would see that her son learn the true meaning of nobility.

Nathaniel wished her well on that front.

As for him, he had also found a degree of happiness; Velanna was like no woman he had met before fierce, proud, and exciting. He still remembered the first time he had seen her in the Wending woods, clad only in the deer skin robes of her people, the sun glinting off her blond hair, her sleek tanned body, the strength in her voice, he hated to admit it, but he had been smitten at first sight.

It had taken time to wear down Velanna's defenses, to find his way past her Dalish pride, but once he had…once he had convinced her to open her heart to him…

It was something his lonely soul had needed, perhaps what they had both needed.

Velanna glanced around _the Violet Hem_ with barely disguised disdain. She still held her Dalish heritage with pride, and viewed those who saw themselves as her betters because of her elven blood as fools. She did not hate humans, but she tended to dislike them until they proved that they were worthy of her respect.

Commander Cousland and Leliana had managed to do that, and through their success Nathaniel had found his as well. He had flirted openly with Velanna since she had joined the order, and she had responded positively, after a time, but it was Aedan who had finally convinced the elf to lower her guard enough.

They had married a year ago, both in the ways of Andraste and in the way of her people. Both the chantry mother and the Dalish Keeper who had performed the ceremonies had not been sure of what to make of marriage of a human and an elf, but the two wardens did not care.

Their love would not be denied, and neither would they…

When they were together, it felt like they could accomplish anything.

Their love was of mutual respect for both of their beliefs. They clashed from time to time as all couples did, but they still managed to find a way through their problems. They might have been wardens first, but they still honored their history.

No one would take that away from them.

She leaned in close to him, he took pleasure at the spicy smell of her, skin, the warmth of her breath on his ear.

"I never thought we would find a place worse than _The Crown and Lion_ emma lath," she murmured.

He chuckled.

"Nobles are nobles where ever you go Milady," he commented.

The Dalish warden snorted.

"I would rather spend my evenings drinking with Oghren then spending my time in this…place…this den of Shemlen villainy."

He smiled slightly, and gave her hand a warm reassuring squeeze of support.

For once the two of them were in agreement. He had never taken great stock in places such as these. He did not need to sit in a certain place to know who he was.

Nobility went beyond the blood in ones veins, Nathaniel understood that.

"We shall not be here long Milady," he promised, "Just until I can speak with my brother."

IOI

Velanna's elven ears twitched, she still was not sure what to make of all this. This…Ser Avery being her emma lath's brother. From what she knew of the Howe family, with the exception of her husband and sister in law, the legacy of the Howes' was one of schemers and butchers. There were members of her old clan who would say that she fit right in with such people, but Nathaniel would not hear of that. Velanna had done everything she could to try to redeem herself for past mistakes, just as he had tried to erase the stains of his family.

There were still those in Ferelden that said that Nathaniel was tainted with the madness that consumed his father. That it was only a matter of time before the warden reverted to what his father had been.

She hoped for Nathaniel's sake that that was not true.

IOI

A server led them to a table in the back, Ser Avery sat alone. He smiled at their approach.

"Lord Howe, Milady Howe welcome," the knight gestured like a generous host, "please be seated, it is always good to see a fellow Fereldan here in this city."

The two wardens sank into their chairs; the server brought Nathaniel a fine brown ale. Velanna had requested honey mead; it was the closest she could find to the spring wine of her people out in the shemlen world.

Ser Avery leaned closer to both of them.

"We can speak freely here brother," he informed the male warden, "This place thrives on its secrets. No one will say anything against us here."

Nathaniel, who had nothing to hide, was not overly concerned. He was not the one living in a foreign city under an assumed name after all.

"That is good to know Tom," he replied, "Now…I believe you owe me an explanation. What in Andraste's name are you doing here in Kirkwall? Everyone I spoke to in Amaranthine claimed that you were dead."

The former Thomas Howe chuckled.

"A necessary fiction brother," he murmured, "I was commanding the garrison in our home city when the rioting began. I had just returned from west hill at the time. The knight in charge of my forces was Ser Avery Howell…"

The man quirked his lip.

"He and I shared a certain…likeness. When word reached Amaranthine of Father's death in Denerim, the rioting began in earnest. Scared refugees from the south backed up by freemen from Highever, men looking to avenge Bryce Cousland and his wife no doubt. They stormed the Arl's estate, looking for my head."

Tom touched his throat protectively.

"They nearly took it. The real Ser Avery chose to hang himself; they found him in the Arl's quarters. A fire that had started during the riot burned the body, almost beyond recognition. "

The younger Howe sighed.

"I, of course, realizing that my life was in danger changed into Ser Avery's armor. I took a small company of men and fled to the harbor. Given my position, it was easy to seize control of my ship, and take _the Queen Rowan_ for myself. I set sail for Kirkwall and never looked back.

The younger man's expression turned thoughtful.

"After everything I had seen during the war…I…I feared the Blight would soon consume our homeland. I came here to find you, to seek you out. You are the eldest Nate, by blood you are now the Arl of Amaranthine. I thought that together we could perhaps reclaim what we had lost, and avenge father at the same time."

The younger Howe shook his head.

"I arrived to find that you had already left, that you had apparently run off in an ill-conceived attempt at vengeance. I still have a few sources in Amaranthine, they mentioned that the wardens caught and conscripted you."

Thomas/Avery rested his hand on his brother's.

"I can only imagine what it was like," he said with sympathy, "Forced to serve with the very same people that murdered our noble father. It pleases me that you have survived Nathaniel, it presents…new opportunities for us both."

Nathaniel gave his brother an even look.

"My loyalty to the wardens brother is not an act," he said flatly, "Commander Cousland…Aedan may not be entirely innocent of wrong doing, but Father was no innocent either, as you well know."

Thomas gave him a look like his elder brother had struck him.

"We were fighting a war Nathaniel," he explained, "What Father did…it was always for Ferelden, an attempt to make things better. Our family deserved better, you know how the other nobles saw us? Did Father not have a right to seek out what was ours by right?

Nathaniel listened not just with his ears but with his heart. He had grown up with Tom after all; if anyone could tell when his little brother was lying it was him.

Did his brother actually believe what he was saying?

Velanna apparently did not.

"If I may ask human," she said coolly, "Why did this knight choose to hang himself in your quarters? It seems…fortuitous for someone wishing to vanish."

Avery/Thomas glanced at Velanna, anger and surprise flitted across his face.

_Was he angry at Velanna's question_, Nathaniel wondered_, it was a fair point after all._

The younger Howe laughed dismissively.

"I can see that Lady Velanna is a wise one brother," he said turning the conversation back on his guests, "Of course you always had a keen eye when it came to strong women who could keep up with you."

Velanna was not put off by the compliment; she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You did not answer my question," she said.

"No I did not," Avery replied, "What is done is done…sister. Thomas Howe is dead, along with so many of Teyrn Loghain's allies, mourned by few or none. Ser Avery Howell however is an important man in Kirkwall, a man who takes care of his people, and has risen to great heights through both his choice of allies and the friends that he has made."

He leaned back with a pleasant smile.

"They say that living well is the best revenge. It is in those words that I take comfort. Let Aedan Cousland have our old lands, poisoned by darkspawn and full of starving squabbling refugees. In Kirkwall, I can make a difference, and build a noble house that will eclipse anything that our father ever dreamed of. "

Nathaniel considered what Thomas, what Ser Avery was telling him, he could see the reasoning of course, but he still feared that there was more going on here than Thomas trying to start a new life.

"What did you know of our Father's plans?" he asked his younger brother, "Did you know about the Couslands, and what came later as Father began to expand his power in Denerim?"

The younger Howe gave him a sly smirk.

"Are you asking me these questions for your own curiosity, or is something that you intend to tell Aedan Cousland?"

"This is not about the Commander, brother," Nathaniel replied.

"I'm glad to hear it; I feared that you might have forgotten the loyalty you owe to your own blood. You might wear warden colors now, but you are still a Howe. The blood of our family runs in your veins. I would hate to think that you have abandoned that in the name of the man who murdered our father."

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed.

"I was not in Denerim when Father fell Tom, but I have seen the Arl of Denerim's estate since then, I saw what our father had turned the lower levels into, and have heard the words of those who suffered in that dark place…."

The warden gave his younger brother a cold look.

"Our father was far from innocent Thomas, what he did to the Couslands proved that."

Avery waved his hand dismissively.

"Tell me brother, where does it say that the Couslands deserved so much more than our family. Where did it say that we did not deserve the rewards that they did? Bryce Cousland was a fop, who did nothing to help our family. Fergus was always sneering down on us, and Aedan…the self-righteous little prick had so much, and all he could see was his love for the Maker…"

The knight shook his head.

"He may have saved Ferelden, but I still remember what he once was, and now he compounds his crimes against our family by taking an Orlesian whore as his bride, and actually siring a child with her. I ask you brother, what is Ferelden coming to?"

It was Velanna who responded, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Do not speak ill of the Commander," she growled, "He has done more for us than anyone else ever did, and I will not have him slandered in my presence."

Again Ser Avery laughed.

"So fiery," he smiled, "She must please you very much in the bedroom brother. Though…I suspect that Father would not have approved brining an elf into our family, Dalish or not…it sets a very bad precedence."

Velanna glared at him, had Nathaniel not stopped her with a warning hand on the shoulder…

Things might have turned very bloody, very quickly.

"I'm not here to discuss my love life brother, or what Father would or would not have approved of. Velanna is here because I love her. I married her because I love her, and despite what has happened in the past, I still love you. Velanna and I both care about your well fare. We are here because we are your family, Velanna and I both. We are worried that you will do something you will one day regret."

"I have already lost my sister," Velanna said coldly, "I would spare my love that pain, though if you talk down to me because of my elven blood again, and you shall regret it. I promise you.

Thomas/Avery shrugged.

"I have no regrets brother; they are an annoyance at the best of times. As for your concern, you need not worry. I'm doing nothing here in Kirkwall except ensuring the return of our family to the noble status we once enjoyed."

A hungry light flashed in the knight's eyes.

"My plans are subtle brother, but will yield to me everything that I desire. I intend to marry well, and soon will be in a position to add a throne to our family, a true throne, not simply one to hide behind.

Nathaniel sighed.

"Tom, as your brother, I'm asking you not to do whatever it is you're planning. You say you have built a life here, well that it is good. Live your life, find a wife and start a family, but let go of the ambition that nearly destroyed the Howe legacy."

He gave his brother another serious look.

"The Howes are not dead in Ferelden, brother, Delilah still lives, and one day her son will have his own lands, and all because of loyalty I have shown to my home and surprisingly enough, to one of the people our father tried to have murdered."

The younger Howe snorted.

"I heard about that as well," he sighed, "That you would risk your life to save Fergus Cousland…"

"He was a friend once brother…"

"The Couslands did not deserve what they had," Thomas said angrily, "We deserved **more **Nathaniel!"

He paused while he calmed himself. His words…they had been louder than he had attended. He took a breath and regained both his composure and his smile.

"You need not worry about me brother," I will be fine.

IOI

They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence. Some small talk passed between the two brothers, mostly about Delilah, when the hour grew late Nathaniel and Velanna returned to the quarters they shared with Leonie and Marius.

Avery returned to his ship, his guards escorting him down the steps toward Lowtown and the docks.

Nathaniel gave his brother one last fleeting look. He was a practical man, and not one known for melancholy but…

Velanna gave him a worried look.

"I'm sorry emma lath," she murmured.

He gave her a sad smile.

"Why do I fear that I will never see him again?" he asked her.

Velanna shook her head.

"People can rarely be saved from themselves," she said sagely, "When their minds are set, it is hard to change them."

Her expression turned warm.

"Your brother knows that you love him, and that you are here if he needs you. You saved me, My Nathaniel, perhaps you will be able to save him as well."

Nathaniel Howe sighed.

He wanted to believe that, but he feared that Thomas had gone too far now, that…he had gone down a road that even his brother could not follow.

Thomas and Father were too much alike, and that was dangerous.

He doubted that he would ever see his little brother again, and feared that when he did it would not be alive.

He would not tell his brother's secret, but from what he had heard from Marius that would not matter.

The Viscountess was already watching Thomas/Avery, if he tried anything against her…

Nathaniel shook his head.

_People can rarely be saved from themselves._

He had come to accept that long ago.

He was a practical man.


	9. Commitments

**Chapter 9: Commitments**

Fall eventually came to the city of Kirkwall, and all the changes that come with it.

Garrett Hawke made his way down the streets of Lowtown. He once again found himself outside of the Hanged Man. It, like the city that it sat in, was going through some changes.

As he stepped inside everything seemed normal, the various mercenaries and lowlifes that had always frequented here remained, but there was a new class of people as well. Mercenaries and bodyguards filled the back tables while their hooded patrons waited to be summoned to one of the suites upstairs…

It was here that Varric Tethras, the Hand of the Viscountess held court.

Corff, the Hanged Man's bartender had gained an influx of coin from Varric's various visitors, it had allowed the Hanged Man to stock a better quality of ale and spirits.

Hawke had endeavored to try them a few times, but, he hated to admit it, kind of missed the old swill the place had to offer.

It was like Isabela had said long ago…

The drinks here were an acquired taste.

Thinking of the pirate queen as always brought a sense of melancholy to the rogue. He had tried to gain an audience with the Arishok to ask him about her, but the Qunari war leader refused to even speak of her. The thief that Garrett Hawke sought did not exist anymore, and it was not the role of the Tallis that she had become to put Hawke's mind at ease.

Hawke had earned respect from the Qunari during that business with the Saarebas, and with his dealings with that dwarven merchant a few years back. He inquired with Fenris about trying again, the elf seemed to have an effect on the Qunari leader, but the white haired elf had advised him that it would be wiser not to…

The Arishok had made his decision, by forcing the issue, all Hawke was doing was putting both himself and Isabela's lives in danger.

If the Viscountess could not convince the giant Qunari to change his mind, than Garrett Hawke would not either.

Corff poured Hawke a drink and gestured for him to go upstairs. Varric had left strict orders that Hawke not be kept waiting when the dwarf was in his room.

The bartender might not work for Varric but he understood where the bulk of this new coin he was getting was flowing from.

As a result, Varric's orders were obeyed.

Hawke went up the stairs, fully aware of some of the envious looks from the visiting nobles, they no doubt assumed that he was here on business for Cousin Lona, but that was not the case.

What Hawke had to discuss with his friend today had nothing to do with business. It was personal.

Hawke slipped silently into Varric's room. The dwarf was sitting at his table, Serene leaning over his chair, they were both facing their noble guest.

Hawke was surprised when he realized that it was Ruxton Harimann.

Hawke had not seen any of the Harimanns since that business with Bethany almost two years ago. He knew that Lady Flora was leading their family now, but had heard little else.

Ruxton seemed to be having a bit of trouble with his business discussion. He kept getting distracted and off topic. Varric being the skilled businessman he was, played the poor man like a fiddle.

It was not difficult for Hawke to figure out what had put the noble off his game. He had been in the Harriman estate the day that they had rescued Bethany, and he remembered what the desire demon had done to Ruxton Harimann.

The man's eyes were continuously being drawn to Serene.

The elf was draped casually over Varric's chair her right elbow just above Varric's shoulder; she was leaning over his chair, with her head resting in her hands. She had a pleasant smile on her face.

Of course, it wasn't her face that Ruxton was staring at.

Serene was dressed conservatively, a simple coat and trousers, cut in traditional Kirkwall fashion. Hawke had worn a similar garb for years.

Of course, the bard was not a conservative young woman. She had left the top three buttons of the coat undone, and had elected not to wear a shirt underneath it. As she leaned forward, she was giving young Lord Harimann a clear view of her cleavage, a view that she would occasionally draw even more attention to, by running a long finger down her pale neck.

The young noble was almost whimpering, lost in lust and desire. Hawke almost felt sorry for him.

Ruxton Harimann seemed to be more than a little enthralled by the elf's…assets.

She had also, Hawke noticed, chosen to not wear a breast band today, which made the show she was putting on for the noble even more distracting.

She gave Hawke a wink as Varric continued working the poor man.

Hawke said nothing as Varric negotiated with the noble, securing a deal that was more than fair regarding Flora Harimann's shipping interests here in Kirkwall. The rogue suspected that when the lady heard about the terms of the deal it would be the last time she trusted her brother with coming down here.

Both dwarf and noble shook hands at the conclusion of their business. Serene held out her hand which Ruxton kissed chastely, though he was likely hoping that she would not notice the effect she had had on the rest of his anatomy.

Harimann rushed off quickly. Hawke chuckled as Serene slipped away from Varric and poured herself a drink.

Hawke took the nobleman's vacated seat. He shot his friends and fighting companions an amused glare.

"That was not even fair you two," he snickered.

IOI

Varric smirked as he put away the contracts; Solona would be most pleased by what he had won for Kirkwall today.

Her Highnessness was trying to get trade flowing again, and this would help in a big way. The trade talks with Starkhaven were only a few days away, and having the support of the Harimann shipping interests would go a long way towards securing the new trade deals that the Viscountess wanted. It was yet another incentive that she would be able to offer Prince Goran.

"Whatever do you mean Hawke?" Varric asked innocently, "I made a square deal with him."

Hawke snorted.

"I don't think he cared much about the deal Varric," the rogue chuckled, "He was too busy enjoying the view."

Hawke pointed at their elven compatriot.

Varric turned to her.

Serene sipped innocently at her wine.

Varric's eyes went to her open coat. The dwarf chuckled.

"See anything you like Handsome?" the elf purred.

He shook his head.

"Ruby that is not even playing fair," he chided.

Serene shrugged. The elf laughed dismissively.

"Life is rarely fair Varric," she said sweetly, "If it was, I would be a woman of means living in the Dales right now. I'm not above using any weapon at my disposal to get what I want."

Hawke snorted, poor Ruxton had not even had a chance. Most men wouldn't have that was for sure.

"Well…those are two lovely weapons you got there Serene," Hawke quipped.

Serene buttoned up her coat, to the disappointment of the two men. The points of her ears flushed a little pink.

"Master Benoit always said they were my best features," the elf smiled shyly, "I'm not above letting some idiot have a look if gets the job done, of course…if they try to touch…"

The elf's red eyes flashed dangerously.

"That would be very bad for them."

Varric snickered, that was the elf's way. She enticed one moment and threatened the next.

It was part of her charm.

Varric hated to admit it, but he had come too really like the elf. He had even given her a nickname as he had with most of his friends. He called her Ruby for her ruby-red eyes and lips. She had a tongue as sharp as the blades she carried, and yet she knew her way around a story too. He respected that. The two of them had spent many a quiet night the last few months just sitting before the fire in the Hanged Man and telling tales back and forth.

Varric liked to consider himself an artist of the tale, but so was she. He might have been good in a fight with his crossbow, but he could not touch Serene when it came to song, dance, acrobatics, or combat.

They both had the gifts the Maker had given them, and they both knew how to play with what they had.

Serene.

He…he had come to enjoy her company. The Hanged Man seemed like a brighter place with her around.

She was a good kid. She was smart, strong, and not above getting her hands dirty when she had to, but at the same time could make him laugh when he least expected it.

Varric felt a wave of sadness wash over him.

She…she reminded him a little of…

NO!

No…he…he could not go there. He refused to go there. No one could ever replace Bianca, the woman…not the crossbow that shared her name…the weapon that she and his old buddy Gerav had finally got working.

Bianca…she…she had been a very special woman; no one would ever replace her in his heart.

Serene wasn't Bianca, she could never be her, it was best that he remember that. As sweet and funny as the girl could be, she could not be what he wanted…besides what did he have in common with a sixteen year old?

She was a kid, a beautiful kid, but a kid none the less. He had to remember that, he was not the type of man to take advantage of a young girl. No matter how mature she seemed.

Still…that did not stop the occasional twinge of overprotectiveness. He had come to care enough about the ruby-eyed elf that he didn't let any of the bastards who lived around here bother her. Serene deserved better and Varric would do his best to see that she find it one day.

Hawke seemed to recognize that and backed off. Serene was a flirt, but she never took it seriously. It was all just a game to her. He knew not to push things with her.

Aveline would have his head if he did…

Provided Varric did not take it first.

_Whoa…where di that thought come from?_

Hawke smiled at the girl.

"Good to know," Hawke replied, "Though you don't have to worry about me. I don't think my lady would approve of that."

The dwarf did his best to suppress a sigh of relief.

"Aveline would likely kick your ass Hawke," Varric agreed.

His friend and business partner did not deny it. After three years, he knew what he could and couldn't get away with around his beautiful guard captain.

"That she would indeed," Hawke said, "Actually, Aveline is the reason I'm down here. I need a bit of advice, and I would rather not share this with the rest of my family, at least…not yet."

Varric felt his inner-storyteller fire up.

_Ooh what is this about,_ he thought with a barely hidden smile.

Even Serene was listening quietly now, absorbing all the details of this moment, as any good storyteller would.

As always, Varric was impressed.

Hawke sighed, and drained his goblet in a single gulp. To admit what he was thinking would take a bit of courage on his part, both liquid and otherwise.

"I need some advice," the rogue admitted.

Both the bard and the dwarf awaited his words with baited breath.

Aveline and I have been together for a while now and…well…she more often than not spends her nights at my estate anyway. Well…I recently offered to let her move in."

"Ooh," the bard purred with a grin.

"Slow down Ruby," Varric cautioned, "Please continue Hawke."

Hawke poured himself another goblet of wine before continuing on.

"My…offer did not go as well as I hoped. We ended up having a very loud conversation about me distracting her from her duties, and how she did not have time with everything going on in Kirkwall right now. "

The rogue shook his head.

"I haven't seen her in three nights now," he sighed, "I have even tried apologizing, but all I get is some cool acceptance, and non-committal promise to stop by later in the week."

He looked at Serene.

"What did I do wrong? She knows that I care about her. I thought it would make things easier if we were living together. She spent enough of her nights in the estate after all."

Varric turned to the elf.

"Any thoughts Ruby?" the dwarf asked.

IOI

Serene tapped her chin lightly.

"Aveline takes her job very seriously," the bard began, "So perhaps she does feel that she needs to spend some time tending to her recruits…"

The elf paused. She was searching for a delicate way to put the next statement. Hawke was not only one of her greatest patrons here in Kirkwall, but she had come to consider him a friend.

She did not want to insult him.

"Perhaps your invitation for her to move into the estate was ill-timed. Aveline seemed to be a very conservative woman. She may be looking to take the next step in your relationship."

"The next step, I don't under…?"

Hawke swallowed hard, he turned a little green.

He had just realized what the elf was thinking.

Serene smiled.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little commitment Hawke?"

Their leader did not look happy at all.

"You…you think that I…that maybe I should consider…?"

"I'm merely offering an opinion," the bard said holding up her hands, "You asked for it, and I gave it."

Hawke seemed to consider what she said.

Varric watched the scene between them with a bland face, but Serene had come to know him well enough to know that he was already chomping to hear the conversation between Aveline and Hawke.

He understood the value of a good romance in any adventure story. Hawke and Aveline had managed to fire his imagination.

Of course the next step was up to Hawke. Serene recognized that.

The rogue refused to meet their gaze; he idly tapped his fingers on the table, considering what she had suggested.

He was either considering how best to make the attempt she had suggested, or he was thinking of a place to run and hide, with some men you could not be sure.

"Thanks," he murmured, "Thank you both, you…you have given me a lot to think about. I…I will see you later."

Hawke gulped down his drink and slunk out of Varric's chamber, his head no doubt spinning with possibilities.

Varric turned to the bard.

"He looks like you just suggested that he hang himself," Varric snorted.

A hint of amusement played across her features.

"Some men find commitment very…intimidating. Bards often have to play on that. Men like our beloved leader value their freedom. They like companionship, but the strings that come with it can get in the way of that."

Varric chuckled.

"He loves her Ruby; at least I think he does. I don't see what the problem is?"

Serene's ears twitched.

"Hawke has spent a great deal of time lately dodging his noble mother's suggestion of settling down, realizing that his lady might be ready for that as well now. Well, he might be feeling a little trapped."

The dwarf nodded, they had heard Lady Leandra speak with her son on several occasions. Bethany had already been married once. The older woman was likely concerned about her son's future.

Hawke likely realized that he could not escape it any longer. He needed to make a choice, and soon.

Serene regarded her empty wine goblet; a pout came to her face.

"Hawke and your guests have drained our reserves," she cooed.

Varric laughed.

"I have a couple more bottles hidden back there," he gestured behind a bookcase. "Shame to waste such good wine on our guests, but…we have to be good hosts Ruby."

The elf laughed and sashayed over to get another, putting a little extra sway into her hips as she did.

Varric pretended not to notice.

The thought brought another thought to mind.

"Have you seen Daisy lately?" he asked the elf.

The bard shrugged.

"I assumed that the Viscountess was keeping her busy in the keep. I went to visit her in the Alienage the other day, and none answered her door."

Varric tapped his chin lightly.

Perhaps he and Hawke should pay the Dalish a visit; she had been awfully quiet the last few weeks.

Maybe they needed to change that.

He did not doubt that the girl would welcome them.

Daisy loved company.

IOI

Merrill groaned in her sleep, nightmares continued to reach out to her from the Viscount's Keep. Memories of Death's Hand and Angelique had dogged her since the end of the battle of Kirkwall.

She would try to awaken, but she knew that there was no escape in waking either…

She had guests, and they were most demanding.

She felt a weight atop her, hands shaking her.

_Creators no!_

"Wake lady," a child's voice sang, "Wake! Wake! Wake!"

"Please," the exhausted elf murmured, "No…no more."

A shadow fell across her.

The boy leapt from her.

"Indeed elf," a cruel purr broke through the shadows, "Tis time for you to awaken, you have work to do. We have work to do."

She groaned.

"On your feet girl," the voice demanded.

Merrill sat up blurry eyed; she kneeled before her guest and her young son.

"Daughter of Asha'belannar please," she begged, "Just a day…just a day to regain my strength."

Morrigan snorted.

"We have come too far elf to stop now. You have done wondrous work on your own, but together…together we can do far more."

Her amber eyes burned into Merrill dark ringed green ones.

"On your feet," she said imperiously, "Unless you wish me to take away what I have given you."

Merrill was now wide awake, her eyes panicked.

"No," she gasped, "No…I…I have not been able to get the mirror to respond as you have…I…I will work. I will help!"

Morrigan gave her a cruel smile.

"Tis a wise decision," she said, "Is it not so my treasure?"

Her son giggled and clapped his little hands.

Merrill gave them a sheepish grin.

She had welcomed the help if Asha'belannar's daughter at first, and the witch's son was quite adorable, but now…now…

She was starting to wonder if she had made a mistake.

The mirror, the Eluvian, it belonged to the elvhen people.

What she was doing, what she and the witch were doing.

She rose on bone weary legs and the two got back to work while the boy watched.

Merrill felt her strength bolster by the presence of the mirror.

It sang to her now, it sang all the time, for the first time since the spirit had given her the power to purify it. Now with this Morrigan's help…

She straightened her back, filling herself with her Dalish pride.

Between the two of them…

…they would accomplish wonders.


	10. Rivals

**A/N: I'm back! Went away to visit my Mom for Easter, expect more regular updates from now on. Hope you all had a good holiday, and now…chapter 10!**

**Chapter 10: Rivals**

The coming of the fall finally brought the Starkhaven delegation to Kirkwall. Merchants, remembering the coin they had made off the Starkhaven soldiers after the battle over the summer restocked their wares. Both Hightown and Lowtown braced itself for the arrival of the Prince and his entourage; this would be the first time since the wedding of Viscountess Amell that so many highborn would be descending upon Kirkwall.

The city did its best to ready itself, but not everyone saw this as a good thing. One in particular saw this as the grandest of mistakes…

Fortunately, he could do nothing about it from the dungeons beneath the keep.

IOI

"It is an insult cousin."

Leandra smiled.

"You are making too much of this Daylen," she said trying to sooth the fallen noble. Death's Hand leaned against the back of his cell with a cold frown on his face. He appreciated Leandra's visit more than usual, today…was a very special day…

_**Today**__…he was officially a man._

His eighteenth birthday should have been a day of great celebration; all of Kirkwall should have turned out to honor their beloved leader. He and Angelique should have been basking in the love of their subjects, his official coronation should be taking place, and he should be standing right now at the pinnacle of Kirkwall, possessor of his greatest dreams, his destiny fulfilled.

Instead…he was here, Angelique was dead, and his faithless nobles were killing each other over his rightful crown. Solona was just sitting back letting everything that their father had ever built burn, while he, the rightful heir, was sealed up beneath the keep.

The people had forgotten that he was a man of destiny. All saw him now as a criminal and pariah. He was hated by the very people he had sworn all his life to protect.

_It was a __**mockery**__, a __**travesty!**_

_The ungrateful wretches of Kirkwall…they all deserved to burn for this insult!_

And now…now…his sister had decided to rub his nose in his imprisonment by holding this conference on the day of his birth. Giving the people something else to think about beside the great man they had betrayed.

She was doing it on purpose, he just knew it.

"The Prince of Starkhaven picked this day love," she reminded him, "Solona is only seeking to have this agreement finalized before…"

The elder noble paused.

Daylen gave her a look.

"Until **what **cousin?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said dismissively, "Much is going on in the city before winter comes. She wishes to have everything ready."

Daylen snorted but fell silent.

He supposed that was all it was.

IOI

Leandra breathed a sigh of relief.

She cursed herself a fool. Solona's orders were quite clear; she did not want her brother knowing about her condition. She feared that if he knew, it might set him scheming again. She trusted in the strength of the dungeon walls, but the Viscountess still could not be certain that all of Death's Hand's influence had been purged from the city.

She preferred to act on the side of caution. Few outside the keep knew that she was with child, she wore long flowing cloaks out in public to hide it, once the baby was born she could be more open about it, but for now…

Daylen was **not **to know.

IOI

"The Starkhaveners will betray her," Daylen grumped, "I hope my sister realizes that."

Leandra frowned.

"Prince Goran is family now Daylen," Leandra reminded him.

Daylen barked a laugh at that.

"He was put on the throne by the people that massacred Sebastian Vael's family, and **now** he sits at the Amell table like a welcome guest? It is a foolish thing."

"Goran had done much to aid Kirkwall in the last few months Daylen. He is not the man you think he is."

Death's Hand snorted. He clutched his hands in impotent fury.

"That Pig should be on a spit right now, his city should be bowing to the rightful rulers of the Free Marches."

Leandra gave him a concerned look.

"You should not say such things," she warned, "I've nearly managed to convince your sister to let you out of here from time to time, so that you may at least spend a little time in the light, and breathe fresh air again."

The fallen noble sighed; he actually gave her a shy smile. One she had not seen in almost four years.

The smile of the boy that she remembered, and it was proof that the Daylen they had all loved and knew was still in there somewhere.

"You are kind to me cousin," he said bowing his head, "Far more than I deserve, I know that now…"

He shivered.

"I keep dreaming about them, my Angelique…and…and our child. It…it wasn't fair that they were taken so ignobly from me. That they were denied the chance to be who they could have been, who we should have been."

He whimpered and laid his head in his hands.

"I miss them," he sobbed, "I miss them so **much!**"

The display touched the woman's heart; she knew such loss, and what it did to the heart.

Leandra placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She gave him the most sympathetic of looks.

"It is not easy losing the one you love," she admitted, "I know that better than most. My Malcolm, my Carver, both taken from me."

He looked at her with pained eyes.

"How do I endure this cousin?" he begged, "What must I do?"

She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"You hold onto what you have left, and do your best to keep it safe."

Daylen sighed.

"I…I have nothing left cousin," he murmured, "It is just me."

"You are not alone Daylen," she said kissing his forehead.

"You are never alone."

She wished him well on his birthday and left him alone.

She felt sorry for him. He…he had endured much; it was not entirely his fault what had happened.

She hoped that what she had heard was a good sign, that perhaps the Daylen they all knew was finally coming back, that he was free of Angelique and Neria's foul influence.

It was all she hoped for, all that she could hope for.

_Maker watch over you Daylen Amell…_

_May he watch over us all._

IOI

Death's Hand smiled after Leandra left.

It sickened him acting so weak around her. A lion should always stand strong and proud…

But…

…But there was opportunity in such behavior.

More and more the guards saw him as a broken man, a man stripped of not only his power, but his will to fight back. Their belief in their superiority, and the neglect of their vigilance was his ally.

The more they viewed him harmless, the easier it would be when the time was right…

The time to return to his armies, and reclaim what was rightfully his!

He longed to see those that betrayed him punished, but his patience allowed him to focus on what was needed most right now.

…That and Neria's continued presence in his life.

In his dreams…he had her again, his mistress…the last thing in his world that had any true meaning for him. Neria had promised him a weapon that would allow him to strike hard at his enemies, a weapon that would start to change his fortunes in the war.

All he had to do was be patient, and wait for Neria to work her magic.

So, he would sit in darkness, he would play the broken man. Let Solona believe herself the victor in their little struggle. In time he would strike hard against her, and restore all that was just and right in Kirkwall again.

Let the mage have her fun, let her build a world that she thought was hers and hers alone.

Death's Hand smiled widely.

It would make it all the sweeter when he ripped it all away from her…

…All the sweeter indeed.

IOI

The Viscountess checked herself one last time in the mirror in her room, her crown on straight, her hair pulled up into its traditional tight bun.

A vision of perfection that was what a Viscountess was supposed to be.

She wrapped her cloak around herself, but that did little to hide the heaviness of her form. She was not due for at least three more months, but she was showing more and more as the weeks went by.

The midwife that was tending to her assured her that everything was normal. There was nothing to suggest that this was not just another pregnancy.

She found herself hoping that those were not simply empty words.

She sighed, and did her best to prepare herself mentally for the task at hand. Sebastian was coming home today with the Starkhaven delegation and she intended to welcome her lord husband's return with open arms…

But first she needed to see to the rest of her family.

Garrett and Leandra were already downstairs with Varric and Serene, who was apparently acting as her Hand's bodyguard these days. The Viscountess was still concerned about the elf's…infatuation with her friend, but had agreed to as Bethany had said, to stay out of it.

Varric was a grown man after all, he had nothing to fear from a love struck young girl.

Ser Graydon and Farris waited outside her quarters. They stood ready to escort her down to the main hall, but she needed to make one final stop first…

She needed to collect her cousin.

She found Bethany in her room, playing with her son. Now seven, maybe eight, months old, little Carver was crawling around their small apartment.

Bethany, still clad in her leathers and gambeson, smiled happily as she rolled a ball away from her son. Carver, a determined look on his little face crawled after it, as fast as he could.

Solona paused; she said nothing for a moment, just taking in the sweet scene in front of her.

It was sad that it was only here now that her cousin could find any peace in her life.

Bethany, sensing that it was time perhaps, sighed heavily.

"We need to go?' she asked.

The Viscountess nodded.

Sighing, the apostate turned noble woman rose, and scooped up her son.

The boy whimpered, saddened that their game was over. Bethany did her best to comfort him.

"We will play later my little man," she cooed, "I promise you."

She bounced him until he calmed down, and smiled at her.

She kissed his little nose and went to put him down for his midday nap.

One of the handmaidens would watch him until Bethany returned. The young mother did not like trusting her son's welfare to the servants, but recognized that she had little in the way of choice.

The two mages of House Amell left to tend to the business of their family. Once again the coldness that had settled over Bethany Hawke heart hid her emotions from her cousin's sight.

She had tried several times to talk to Bethany, but had been rebuffed each time.

She hoped that one day they could regain the closeness they had once had.

She had loved Bethany as a sister…

She wanted her sister back.

IOI

Solona expected much from this trade conference.

This was not just about Kirkwall and Starkhaven. Varric had convinced several of the other city states to send representatives as well. Marcome, Tantervale, Wycome had all promised to send representatives. The Margrave of Ansburg and the Teyrn of Ostwick had also both made noise that they were going to attend.

What should have been a small gathering was starting to turn into a major meeting of the leaders of the Free Marches.

Solona needed this.

She needed all of the other marcher cities to see that she was back in action. She needed them all to see that Kirkwall was a safe investment once again. The War of Lions was simply a dispute between the nobles, one that her guard and nobility were helping her deal with.

She needed to show her fellow leaders that she was not what Daylen had convinced them she was.

The Viscountess led the way down to the main hall, with Bethany trailing just behind her. The guards opened the doors and…

The two of them walked into a near riot!

Noble women were shrieking in terror. Bodyguards tensed as the noble's that paid them backed away.

Despite her condition Solona pushed her way through.

Maker…what was it now?! Did she not have enough to worry about with the trade conference?!

The cause of the panic was not hard to miss; it stood silently, implacably, as she made her way down to greet it.

The Viscountess sighed.

The Qunari were in the keep…

…Or rather, a small delegation of them. The gray-skinned giants said nothing as they stood at attention, awaiting her arrival. Their weapons sheathed a full complement of Qunari soldiers simply stood there…

…Their leader eyeing her coldly.

Solona cursed under her breath!

She had often offered to host a Qunari delegation, she had invited the Arishok many times to come to the keep, normally he said nothing, or sent the Tamassran that had accompanied them to respectfully decline.

The ruler shook her head.

_Why now, of all the days…why now?_

She put on her most winning smile and stood before their leader, a Sten she believed he was called.

"I bid welcome to you soldiers of the Qun," she said with a slight bow.

The Qunari leader snorted.

"We come to answer a question from our Arishok," he said flatly, "He wishes to understand the Amell's business today."

"We are merely seeking to finalize matters of trade with our honored neighbors," Solona shrugged, "Your Arishok will likely find the answers you seek quite boring."

The Sten was unconvinced.

"I do not question my role," he said quietly, "We are here to answer the Arishok's question, and so shall it be done. We wish to see the kabethari for ourselves."

Solona did not respond to that.

She knew several Qunari words, thanks to her late Master's teachings, as a Tevinter he had some experience with the Qunari…

Kabethari.

She knew it as a term the Qunari used to describe the people they had conquered, people not yet converted to their philosophy…

Had the soldier just made a slip of the tongue, or was that possibly a threat?

Solona could not say for certain.

Never-the-less, she had no desire to have what should have been a simple business conference turn into a blood bath, the treaty with the Qunari still held.

She would see that it was honored.

She nodded to Gray and Farris who both lowered their weapons.

It seemed that they had just added another delegation to this meeting.

The other marcher leaders were just going to love this!

"You are welcome to observe of course," Solona said with a slight smile, "The Qunari have been good neighbors these last few years."

The large man did not respond verbally, he simply nodded and led his men to back where they could observe the arrivals.

The Viscountess sighed heavily.

One crisis averted at least, she hoped that…

The door to the keep swung open and a full armed company of Templars stormed in. Knight-Commander Meredith at their head.

Bethany gasped behind Solona. The Viscountess touched her hand, and gave it a comforting squeeze.

Both of the mages strengthened their shielding spell, hopefully that would be enough to block the Templar's gaze…if she did not know already what they were…

…If she did…this would not end well.

"Knight-Commander," Seneschal Bran said smiling, "We welcome you to the keep, how are you…"

Meredith glared at him.

"Spare me your pleasantries," she snarled, "I am told that there are Qunari in the Keep."

Solona stepped forward then, a smile of greetings on her face.

"The Arishok wishes to observe our trade conference Meredith," she said warmly, "The Llomerryn Accords give him that right. We must honor the terms of the treaty, must we not?"

The Knight-Commander snorted.

The look on her face, said what she thought of the Llomerryn Accords.

"You take to many chances with these…creatures Amell."

The Sten and his men did not seem to take offense at her comment. They simply observed with their weapons sheathed.

"The Qunari are still our guests Meredith," Solona said through clenched teeth.

"It is unwise for a guest to insult his host, or vise-versa."

Again the Templar woman snorted.

"Never the less, I fear you are playing with fire Amell," she said coldly, "The Templar order does not intend to let this trade conference go off without protection."

She gave the Viscountess a cold smile.

"We intend to observe these negotiations as well, to make sure that everything remains within chantry law."

"That is unnecessary Knight-Commander," Solona laughed dismissively.

"Perhaps Amell," the larger woman responded, "Perhaps not, it is my duty to see to the safety of the citizens of Thedas, to make sure that these…noble men and women have nothing to hide."

She stepped forward, almost nose to nose with the Viscountess.

"You have nothing to hide do you?" the Knight-Commander asked with cruel smirk.

Solona said nothing at first, she had no real grounds to fear Meredith on this, but with both the Templars and Qunari in the keep, it would no doubt send a bad message to the other marcher leaders…

…but what could she do? Meredith had just as much right to observe these proceedings as the Qunari did.

The Viscountess sighed.

"As you wish Knight-Commander," she said with a nod, "You are of course welcome to observe this meeting, as any Marcher would be."

The Templar sneered.

"Thank you…Your Excellency," she replied with barely masked sarcasm, "You always have been…wise."

Solona willed her heart to slow down; she could almost feel her child kicking hard inside her.

_Andraste save me_, she thought.

_This…is going to be a very, __**very**__ long day._


	11. Answers

**Chapter 11: Answers**

The nobles of the Free Marches descended on the city of Kirkwall, all came hoping to either secure what they desired, or at least put their mind at ease to the intentions of their neighbors in the city of chains.

The Tantervale delegation was the first to arrive. Solona greeted them with all the regal grace that she could muster in her condition. The Qunari standing in the back clearly disturbed the visitors, and not surprising they sought to stay close to Meredith and her Templars.

The move did not surprise Solona; Tantervale was by far the most pious of the Marcher cities. Chantry law was absolute there with the most minor of offenses punished to the extreme, or so rumor said…

It was probably a lucky thing that the chantry had never decided to place a circle of magi in Tantervale; the poor mages would likely never have had their grievances aired.

The Teyrn of Ostwick was equally put off by the presence of the Qunari, but given his cities history that was not much of a surprise. The bulk of the first Qunari invasion of the Free Marches had fallen the hardest on them, so it was not surprising they had hard feelings for the foreigners.

The leaders of both cities took shelter behind the Knight Commander, an act that both pleased Meredith and infuriated Solona, though she did not openly show it.

_She did not intend to give any ground to the Jackal and her minions this day._

Ansburg and Markham provided much needed relief on that front. The Margrave of Ansburg embraced Solona like he would a member of his family. Solona had turned to Ansburg quite heavily in purchasing food for the Ferelden refugees outside the city, and had provided increase security for the latest food shipments in the face of so many raiders now preying on her own city.

Of course, it was also possible that Marius might be playing a part in Ansburg's loyalty, the wardens maintained their garrison in the Free Marches in Ansburg. Word that House Amell had contributed a son to that organization likely went far in the eyes of the Margrave, not to mention Solona's friendship with the hero Aedan Cousland. In the face of such powerful friends, the circumstances surrounding Marius's recruitment was irrelevant.

The Amells could be seen as warden supporters that was all that mattered.

The Markham delegation was equally supportive, consisting mainly of scholars from that fine city; it was not hard to see their reasons to approve of the Viscountess. She had turned to the aid of the scholars at the University of Markham to try to increase crop yields for the farmers outside of Kirkwall, and had paid quite handsomely for their research.

So it was that the trade summit began to split into two camps, the Lioness and the Jackal both had their supporters.

_Then had come the arrival of the Starkhaveners, and that changed the entire dynamic._

Solona embraced her husband as he strode into the keep. Prince Goran followed respectfully behind him, his rotund presence in the robes of state drawing many eyes, but that was not the only reason.

The prince had brought two honored guests along as well.

Captain Liam Rosewood was well known to the Viscountess, a distant cousin of Sebastian he maintained many of the Vael features, and had served as go between with the soldiers of Starkhaven that had helped her win back her throne from her mad brother.

Next to him walked a small old woman, she had quick eyes and a cunning smile.

The Lady Alana Rosewood was likely recognized by all.

The lady, known as Aunt Alana by both Liam and Sebastian, was also called the Mistress of Rumors. She had been an institution in Starkhaven once. She was a woman of many connections, and listened to many whisperers that served her. It was said that she likely maintained the greatest spy network in Thedas, one that she had built herself from the ground up over the decades. She had once served as advisor to Sebastian Vael's grandfather, but had fallen into disfavor when his son, Sebastian's father took the throne.

In an effort to appease his nobles, the Prince had exiled the old woman from court, sending her live in a quiet retirement.

A few years later, those very same nobles, along with Lady Harimann of Kirkwall had murdered the prince and almost all of the royal family.

_Had the Mistress of Rumors still served the crown of Starkhaven that may not have happened._

Goran had recalled Alana to court almost immediately upon his taking up the throne. He used her whisperers to keep the nobles of his home city in line, and also to search for alliances that would both solidify his hold of Starkhaven and enrich his home at the same time.

Lady Alana had taken a shine to Solona during her short exile in Starkhaven. She embraced the young ruler like the daughter she had never had. The two women spoke quietly about her condition as they made their way into the meeting room.

Lady Alana had been unable to have children. So pregnancy fascinated her quite a bit. In her youth, that stigma had weakened her value as a noble woman, but…had also led her to seek out other avenues of power, which she found in the secrets of others.

The old woman viewed it as her sacrifice for power.

The lords and ladies filed into the room. As was tradition, the members of each delegation sat together, forming a unified front. Tantervale sat together, as did Ostwick, Markham, and Ansburg.

House Amell sat at the head of the table, with Starkhaven directly to its right, not surprising considering that the marriage of Sebastian to Solona had created strong ties between the two noble houses.

Lady Rosewood caused a bit of stir here.

She passed by her nephews and left the Starkhaven delegation, with a pleased smile, the mistress of rumors took a seat right next to Leandra and Garrett Hawke, just to the left of Varric, who was also Solona's hand, who sat just to Solona's right.

She took her seat right behind the Viscountess, right where she could whisper in the young woman's ear if she needed to.

The move shocked the other delegations. Liam Rosewood, who had known of his aunt's intentions, chuckled.

Solona did her best to suppress a smile.

She knew what the other city leaders were thinking. They were no doubt thinking about all the secrets that the old woman knew about them, secrets that she seemed to have decided to share with the Viscountess of Kirkwall.

Solona suspected that they might have a good right to be concerned. Alana knew many things. If she had decided to support Kirkwall interests…

That was a major victory for House Amell.

Of course, now she had to ask what it would cost her. The Lady Alana did not do things simply out of kindness. There would be a price attached…

Solona hoped that she had what was needed to pay it.

IOI

The trade negotiations went on for most of the afternoon and into the early evening, no one seemed to want to call for recess, not wishing to show weakness before their peers.

When Solona herself finally chose to break for dinner, many things had come to light, things that she had not expected. She had been distracted of late very distracted, what with preparing for the birth of her child, and matters of running the city, she did not realize how far reaching what was happening in her home had become.

The War of Lions had gained the attention of the cities in the Free Marches. No one openly mentioned their support for one faction or another, but it was clear that the war had grown beyond being a simple problem between the Amell siblings.

The subject of the red witch came up several times. Neria was smart; she did not openly attack any trade caravan that might cause one or more of the cities to come down on her. Solona suspected that the elf was either using mercenaries, or perhaps mind controlled bandits to acquire what she needed.

It was all the more reason that ending her as soon as possible should take precedence. The Knight Commander said nothing when the Viscountess mentioned summoning the seekers of truth. The Tantervale delegate even offered to help her, to help end the threat of this rogue mage once and for all.

Another surprise came at the mention of the isle of Estwatch, off the eastern coast of the Free Marches; Estwatch had been a port of call for pirates and raiders for generations. The war of lions had summoned more such people to the little island. Technically it belonged to the Felicisma Armada, but recent reports suggested that several of the raider captains were organizing under the command of a single raider, little was known about him accept that he was Ferelden born.

He apparently had no ties to the Armada beyond the usual ones, and seemed content to confine his raiding to Orlesian shipping for the time being.

Solona found herself growing curious.

Estwatch could be useful if a deal could be made. More than a few naval vessels that had served in Kirkwall had deserted after the battle that ousted Death's Hand.

Those raider vessels could be a valuable resource if she was able to convince their leader to sign on with Kirkwall.

She made note to ask Varric about it. Perhaps the dwarf could find a way to finance a little venture to the raiders of Estwatch.

As far as finances went, she was quite surprised to find out that one of the wealthiest of the players at this conference was not even speaking, and in fact…was a member of her family.

Bethany had said nothing of her many business dealings these past few months, but apparently outside of Kirkwall, the name Bradley had become very well known.

The Viscountess had had no idea.

Bethany and Perrin had been busy, in the months leading up to her flight from Kirkwall, the Bradley's had been investing money all over the Free Marches. Their master had commented several times on the youngest Hawke having a head for numbers, which when added to an apparent head for business… had allowed Bethany to build a fortune for herself and little Carver.

Solona suspected that she had been building a shield to hide behind, the Amell name worked, but with her added wealth, it was yet another defense against the Templars looking too closely in her direction.

Apparently Perrin had just sealed a major deal for his family when Daylen had…acquired him to be his new lord hand. Solona could only imagine how her cousin likely blamed herself for that.

She hoped that one day Bethany would realize that it was not her fault.

As the meeting broke up their observers took their leave. The Qunari returned to their compound, and Meredith headed back to the Gallows.

The Viscountess watched them leave with a concerned eye. She had not been able to get a read on Meredith during the negotiations, nor had she been able to breach the implacable Qunari's cold demeanor. She was unsure how her saw what had occurred, were they impressed or had she made some kind of error that might lend to them seeing her as weak and vulnerable?

_Alas, only time would tell._

For the moment, she tried to put such harsh thoughts out of her mind, and focus on what really mattered. Sebastian was finally home, and the two of them had much to discuss regarding their soon to be growing family.

In the face of that happy news, her other problems could wait.

IOI

As trade was discussed and the nobles played their games, one of the Viscountess's party was not pleased.

Ser Graydon Stark found himself watching the Qunari, the implacable giants said nothing as the observed the meeting.

He found himself wondering what it would take to make one of the horned bastards talk…

He wondered what it would take to have one of them tell him about Tallis.

The Rivaini born Qunari still haunted his sleep. They had been enemies when they had first met, but over the months of their travels with Solona the two of them had become something else…

_He still was not quite sure what that was._

He and the Viscountess had tried being polite and going through proper channels, but the Arishok had rebuffed their questions each time.

Now…he was starting to wonder if more extreme matters might be called for.

It was completely insane, he recognized that, but it did not take away from the fact that it was what he wanted to do. Tallis, the woman that Hawke and the others had known as Isabela, continued to haunt him.

Tallis had warned them that the Arishok might kill her upon her return to her people, that he might consider her poisoned from her time around the basra.

The thought of her…their comrade in arms dead on the floor of the Qunari compound filled the young knight with an almost unreasoning rage.

_If those horn headed bastards had hurt her, he…he would…_

Ser Gray sighed.

_He was not sure what he would do._

The Qunari left and temptation left with it. He had thought of asking Lord Hawke about his ideas. The Amell noble had apparently been a lover of Tallis before she had converted to the Qun.

Perhaps he and his allies would be interested in helping find out what had happened to their old friend?

The two of them might not have liked each other, but Hawke was loyal to his friends.

Serene glided over next to him; the elf had a thoughtful expression on her face.

"You're wasting your time," she purred.

"What are you talking about?" the knight sighed.

The bard gestured at the retreating Qunari.

"I've heard about the Rivaini girl, the Qunari that helped Lady Lona, you and Hawke have both been asking questions about her, no?"

Gray thought about denying it, as a native Fereldan, he had little love for Orlesians, and even less for their spying bards.

Never the less he nodded.

Serene glanced at the retreating giants' backs.

"My master suspected that the Qunari might have been behind the attacks on Lady Lona before Death's Hand took power. He had me and Francois…question one of their converts."

Gray turned, his curiosity now peaked.

The elf shook her head.

"It was a dwarf we caught. We used techniques that usually worked on his kind, appeals to greed and family, but it was all for naught. The ox-men know ways to break people that put even a bard to shame."

She gave him a sympathetic look.

"If the Qunari were unhappy with your friend's report, she is either dead, or likely has been re-educated. Their methods might be harsh, but they work. If they gave her the full treatment, Maker only knows what that is…she likely does not even remember you now."

That thought sent a wave of panic through the knight. If…if she no longer could…

He tried to dash after the Qunari but the elf put an arm on his wrist.

He glared at her.

"Let go!"

"Non," she replied, "Varric and Lady Lona would not like you poking the ox-men. If you annoy them too much they might charge, then the entire city would suffer."

The elf's red eyes narrowed.

"Remember your duty knight," she whispered.

Ser Graydon Stark's eyes flashed with anger. How dare the elf question…

Though…

Though…in his heart he knew that she was right. Duty was all he had now; it was what endured when your heart was scarred until nothing could touch it.

Ostagar, the civil war afterward, the death of his family, losing Cauthrien in Denerim, each one of these acts had taught him one thing.

Perhaps it was better not to feel, it seemed like he was destined to lose the ones he cared about. He had loved Cauthrien, he had lost her. He had cared for Solona, but she was taken. He had… had…

_Tallis…_

He…he did not know how he felt for Tallis; he was worried about her as a friend, but…but…

_Did he want something more? Had he wanted something more?_

_Had…had he come to want __**her?**_

He cursed under his breath.

The horn headed bastards…what he would not give to get at least one of them to talk.

Serene smiled wanly at him.

"Varric and I are heading back to the Hanged Man," she purred, "Come have a drink with us, you look like you could use one."

Graydon Stark sighed in surrender.

If he could not have answers, then a drink would have to do.

He would check with the Viscountess, unless she needed him for something else he would take the elf up on her offer. Orlesian or not, she did have a point.

Perhaps it would be better if he did forget about Tallis…

_Duty endured. _


	12. Rumors

**Chapter 12: Rumors**

A full moon shone down on the Viscountess's gardens, its silver light made it possible for both Solona and Lady Alana to slip away from politics for a moment and speak plainly with each other.

The young ruler regarded her guest thoughtfully. After what had happened during the trade negotiations she felt that Alana owed her more than a few answers.

The old woman kept silent, at least until they were out of the earshot of keep. She knew that even here the Viscountess was being watched and protected, it the world of the nobility there was no such thing as basic privacy…

Still, she did what she could to maximize her chances not to be overheard.

Solona deserved that much.

"How is your back feeling dear?" the old woman asked.

The Viscountess chuckled.

"Not so bad as my ankles," she said dryly, "Considering what a woman has to go through to bring a child into this world, it is amazing we do it at all."

Alana laughed lightly.

"Alas I would not know," the woman said with a sigh, "I watched your Sebastian come into this world though you know, his mother, Maker rest her soul, complained for weeks before his birth. She came to the conclusion that your husband did not wish to be born, and would remain inside her until he was five."

Solona laughed. She realized that she knew very little about her late in-laws, and was saddened that they never got the chance to meet.

The mistress of rumors sighed.

"I have lived a long time dear," the old woman began, "I watched two generations of Vael's come into their own. I fear that I will not live to see your little ones grow into their titles."

She shook her head.

"Oh what I would not give for twenty or thirty more years to see it all come to pass. Alas…I fear it is not meant to be."

Solona gave the old woman a concerned look, which only made her chuckle to herself.

"Don't worry child," she soothed, "I'm not dying yet, just…I find myself thinking about my mortality quite a bit lately…

The woman straightened her back.

"I would see the family I love made safe before I was done."

Solona nodded, it seemed that finally the mistress of rumors was about to come to the point about this little meeting.

That the elder noble was finally ready to tell her the price of her aid earlier.

"I have watched you carefully these many months," the old woman admitted, "And more importantly I have watched the members of your house, both noble and common born…

The old woman frowned.

"I fear that in your rush to return your city to prosperity you have lost sight of the enemies that still maneuver around you."

Solona did not take the woman's comment as an insult, Alana was not the type, and if she was concerned she likely had legitimate reasons to be.

"What do you think I am doing wrong?" she asked.

"Not wrong dear," the elder noble said, "Merely that you are not looking at the long term consequences of your actions. I see three main points that you might want to take care of…for the good of the family of course."

"Of course," Solona agreed, pausing to admire one of the rosebushes, it had always been one of her mother's favorites…

She tried to draw a bit of strength from it now.

"The first item you must deal with is the Qunari. It amazes me that the peace has lasted as long as it has, but that Qunari entourage was not here simply to observe today, they were here as a warning. The Qunari leadership is losing patience with fair Kirkwall."

"I know what they want now," Solona informed her, "I have my agents searching for the Tome of Koslun. Varric has his contacts looking as well…"

She gave the old woman a sly smile.

"You would not happen to know what happened to it."

"Alas, no," the old woman sighed, "The dreadful book seems to have vanished, it has not turned up in any auctions that my whisperers watch, and no private collectors have been bragging about having acquired it."

Solona shook her head, she was pleased that she did not have to tell Alana what was being sought, the woman continued to amaze her with her gift for ferretting out secrets.

"The Qunari believed that Daylen had it," Solona responded, "I have had his home searched, and the keep, so far nothing."

"Keep searching," the old woman advised, "More importantly, let the Qunari know that you are searching, it will appease their leadership, at least…for a while."

Solona nodded. The suggestion had merit.

"The second matter you need to turn to is the Orlesians, especially considering this summit you have agreed to host between the Empress and the King."

"You heard of that too?" Solona did not sound surprised.

"A lot of preparation goes into such meetings dear, that many people involved, people talk, my whisperers in the empire and here have told me certain things, things that you need to know."

Solona nodded, waiting for the old woman to continue.

"There are problems in the empire my dear," Alana began, "Many of the chevaliers were unhappy with the empire's reaction during the Blight. Some in the nobility saw it as excellent opportunity to reclaim what they feel as simply a rebellious province."

"I take it those people are unhappy with idea of a conference taking place here?"

The mistress of rumors nodded.

"They are a problem yes, but do not underestimate Celene either my dear. She has held the reins of power since she was sixteen, and is a skilled manipulator. She knows about the problems here in Kirkwall, several of your rivals have family in Orlais after all…"

Solona spun on the woman, not easy given her condition.

"Are you saying the empire is supporting some of the renegade nobles here?"

"Not openly," Alana shrugged, "At least…not yet."

Solona cursed under her breath.

The war of lions was bad enough without the Orlesians getting involved.

"Plots continue to swirl in the empire," Alana continued, "One of the grand duke's even suggested freeing your brother from the dungeons here. One even hinted at sending him a full battalion of chevaliers in exchange for him bringing Kirkwall back into the imperial fold."

The Viscountess shook her head.

"Death's Hand would not stand for that," she said, "He would have taken the soldiers don't get me wrong, but their commanders would soon have found themselves under the sway of his witch, then he would have had a beachhead within Orlais…"

Solona sighed.

"When he was defeated, one of my brother's journals fell into my possession. I read it, hoping to find some kind of evidence that he had been a simple pawn in what had happened."

Solona frowned.

"What I read in those pages. Daylen wanted Kirkwall, but as the years went on, his appetite had been growing. He would never have been satisfied with simply this city. He wanted more."

The Viscountess closed her eyes, as if warding off pain.

"The Orlesians would have been foolish to underestimate him. Never the less, I shall double the guard on my brother's cell during the meeting, just in case."

The Mistress of Rumors smiled.

"You might want to have your own bard watched," she advised, "The cute elven girl with the red eyes, she masks herself well…perhaps too well."

Solona nodded.

She would mention that to Varric, having spent time in the empire, Solona knew how dangerous a bard could be, especially if they decided to change sides.

"A wise ruler knows when to listen dear, it pleases me that you know how, which brings me to my third point," the old woman smiled, "Perhaps it is the most important point, matters of a certain member of our family, your cousin, the Widow Bradley."

"What about Bethany?"

The elder noble chuckled.

"She had managed to raise a substantial fortune for herself and her child. It is a commendable thing, but such wealth has been known to attract dangerous people, especially for a young woman so soon bereft of her lord husband."

"Bethany is strong Milady," she said, "I trust and love her like a sister."

"And in that, she is more dangerous," Alana said, "I'm not trying to worry you dear, merely to warn you about what I have heard. She is of Amell blood, several ambitious nobleman have been putting out feelers about her, seeing if she is open to courtship."

Solona nodded, this was not news to her. She knew that Ser Avery Howell was trying to catch Bethany's eye, and several missives had arrived at the keep from other eligible suitors.

Solona had her own agents researching their background, lest Bethany be lured into a liaison that would be dangerous for their family.

"As a sister," Alana said, "Bethany may come to you for counsel on these suitors. I may have a suggestion that will serve both you and our family as a whole."

Solona arched her eyebrow.

_Here it comes._

"I would like you to introduce Liam to Bethany."

Solona almost laughed.

"I can introduce them," she said, "But I will not influence Bethany's decision on this matter. She would not hear of it."

The Mistress of Rumors frowned.

"You could not convince her to do her duty for her family's sake?"

"I would not make an enemy of my sister," she responded, "Liam is a good lad. I do not doubt that. If he comes to Bethany and she decides that she wishes to pursue a courtship I will not object, but I cannot and **will not** force such a matter."

Alana quirked her lip in slight frustration, she had not thought the Viscountess would resist on this point.

"You would rather the widow wed one of your enemies?"

"Bethany would not do that out of spite," Solona said, "I make sure that she is aware of who it is she is dealing. I won't let her be seduced by some opportunist. Besides Bethany's first concern right now is her son's welfare. Too many widows have lost their children when they remarry to "Accidents" I have no desire to see little Carver fall to such a fate."

The mistress of rumors sighed.

"Very well my dear, we shall let matters play out then. If Bethany likes my Liam then so be it."

She gave the old woman's shoulder a familiar squeeze.

"Do not sound so downhearted Milady. Liam is a good man, perhaps he will catch Bethany's eye after all."

"Perhaps," the old woman responded.

They walked in silence for a few moments; finally Solona asked the question that had been bugging her since the meeting.

"Do your whisperers know anything about the Pirates of Estwatch?"

Lady Alana chuckled.

"Child," she snickered, "Every ruler in the Free Marches turns their eye to Estwatch eventually; it has been that way since I was a girl."

The old woman shook her head.

"Don't tell me that you have gotten it into your head to try and invade the island?"

"No," Solona replied, "I want to make a deal with its leaders."

Alana paused, the wheels in her head turning.

"The pirates and raiders there have little use for our kind dear, but…since they are starting to unify under this Fereldan, what you are suggesting…it…it might have at least a slim chance of working."

"The Fereldan," Solona said, "What do your whisperers know about him?"

"He is wealthy, and he is successful. Few people have ever met him or her."

"You don't know if he is a he or a she?"

"Whoever he or she might be is very careful," the old woman added, "Working only through emissaries, but spreading a lot of coin around. The Fereldan first appeared shortly after the battle of Kirkwall, but has been moving quickly these last few months."

Solona paused.

"You think he might be funded by one of my enemies?"

"It is possible," Alana shrugged, "But if he was the pirates of Estwatch would likely be raiding your shipping right now. So far, they are only striking at the Orlesians with any openness, which, of course, has led to the belief that this mysterious Fereldan is in fact a Fereldan."

Solona considered what Alana had said, it was risky sending an emissary to Estwatch, but she would see if Varric knew anyone in the city associated with Estwatch.

_Who knew, she might just get lucky and gain an ally out of his, if not a friend among the pirates._

She could only hope.

Alana' eyes glittered, her features became more hungry.

"I have answered your questions Milady," the Mistress of Rumors said, "Which brings me to two of mine. You likely will not like either of them, but for the sake of our family I must ask them, especially with the Orlesians coming soon, likely with more than a few of their bards in tow."

Solona nodded.

"I will try not to get offended," Solona promised.

"Very well," the old woman sighed, "Then I shall get the most insulting out of the way first."

Alana paused.

"Is Sebastian the Father of your child?"

Solona's eyes widened in shock.

"What?!"

"You were travelling with that Fereldan knight of yours for months, and there were more than few men among your Tevinter bodyguards, I need to know…"

The Viscountess's eyes flashed with fury. It was all she could do to hold the flames of magic within her.

Breathe, she thought, you knew that Alana's question would hurt, she meant no offense…

…Just…Breathe…

Her temper cooled, though her anger remained.

"Ser Gray is my friend, Milady," she snarled, "I did not betray my vows with him, or any of my guard! Sebastian is my Lord Husband. He is the only man I have chosen to lay with."

Alana smiled.

"Thank you dear," she said, "As I said, I meant no offense, I merely know that Celene's bards will no doubt be looking for any leverage over you in the coming meeting. We had to be certain that they would not find some little secret and use it to threaten you."

Solona said nothing, she already had a little secret, but her magic was known to a precious few, her Tevinters, Sebastian, Aedan, Gray, Fenris, Tallis, the Hawkes, and Daylen.

Sebastian and the Hawkes were family they would not talk. Tallis might have told the Qunari, but it was unlikely that they would go to the Orlesians with it. The Hero of Ferelden was a friend, and had kept her secret. Gray and Fenris were both loyal to her, though the elf still watched her for any sign of corruption. Farris and the other Tevinters were all loyal to her, and had guarded her secret well. Daylen…Daylen had his own reasons to keep her secret.

What that was, she had no idea.

No, if the Orlesians knew, they would likely have told the chantry, and Meredith would have crushed her by now. Crushed her and installed a puppet to take her place.

She would watch the Orlesians, and do what was necessary to keep her secret.

It was what they would do if they were in place.

"My final question is a request," the old woman said, "Something that I have wanted to do for a while now."

The old woman smiled.

"I want to meet your brother, may I speak with him?"

Solona blanched.

"Why would you want to speak with Death's Hand?"

Alana chuckled.

"I have heard much about your brother," she said, "So many stories, I trust the ears and lips that have brought them to me, but I still would prefer to see for myself, with my own eyes."

The old woman's face turned wistful.

"I never got to speak with Loghain MacTir, to ask him why he did what he did. Few people like that survive the failure of their schemes. Your brother has."

Alana chuckled.

"I have always wanted to look evil in the eye, and see it wearing one of its true faces."

Solona snorted, she had never considered Daylen evil, paranoid and mad with ambition yes, but not evil.

She did not want to think that her parents could have brought true evil into being. Regardless of what Death's Hand had done to their family.

If Daylen was evil…?

What did that make her?

"I…I will honor your request, but I do advise caution. He is not simply my brother anymore."

"Yes I have heard that the blood mage gave him a gift, a set of claws…"

"Not just the claws," Solona said coolly, "When a person accepts such gift from a demon, it does more than change them physically."

Her blue eyes turned sad.

"Death's Hand is not simply Daylen Amell anymore, what else he is…I do not know."

"Then he has a secret that I can try to learn," the old woman said gamely.

Solona gave her a hard look.

"Trust me Milady; some secrets are better off…staying secret."

IOI

The nobles dispersed from the keep, many to settle into their quarters for the night, others to enjoy what hospitality that Kirkwall had to offer.

They did so under the watchful eyes of a skilled hunter.

Clad in the garb of a Qunari warrior, the dark skinned woman watched as the basra left the keep, her eyes watchful for two people.

She spotted them.

Garrett Hawke was known to her. The thief who she had once been had been quite fond of him…

That fondness had been crushed beneath the will of the Qun, what memories she had of him were flickering things, like water they slipped quickly through her hands.

Then she saw the knight, the other one she had sought.

Ser Graydon Stark.

Gray.

The hunter shook her head, trying to clear it of the troubling thoughts that always came in the basra's presence.

She was not the thief anymore! She was Tallis; her duty was to serve the Qun!

The thief Isabela was gone; Tallis was a rumor, now, whispered in hushed tones.

Being a rumor served her purposes, it aided her as she served her role.

_To solve._

_To hunt._

_To slay the enemies of the Qun._

_That __**was**__ her life now._

That was who she was.

She **was** Tallis.

She faded into the shadows, a rumor that moved across the rooftops of Hightown.

**She was Tallis…**

…And she had work to do.


	13. Champions and Tyrants

**Chapter 13: Champions and Tyrants**

"I'm a sodding idiot."

Varric looked up from his drink into Graydon Stark's rather morose face.

He debated silently whether to tease the knight or offer support…

He chose support.

"You're not the first man to fall for the wrong woman Ser Knight," he soothed, "Rivaini was elusive even before she joined the ox-men. I can only imagine how she is now."

The knight snorted, and took another hard pull from his pint…

Not that it was helping much.

Varric had gathered their circle of friends once again in _the Hanged Man_, all but Hawke who was visiting with his mother and sister tonight. Aveline and Fenris sat across from Ser Stark, while Anders quietly tapping his finger on his water goblet. The mage seemed more than a little annoyed lately. He took a look at Gray and Aveline's pints and sighed.

"I miss being able to get drunk," the apostate sighed.

Aveline, who was off-duty for once, gave Gray a commiserating look, she had arrived before Varric and Serene had, and already had a lead on them for drinking this eve.

"What you are feelin' is com…completely natural," she slurred, "love…love is a pain sometimes. You don't knooow…know… what to do and all you end it doing…is feeling like an ass."

Graydon sighed.

"Love is a bitch," he grumbled.

"That she is," Aveline sat draining her tankard.

Varric suppressed a chuckle.

It was not often that he got to see Aveline drunk. Typically, she was a bit of tea-totaller when it came to drinking. Not that she could not hold her own with a company of soldiers, being a king's soldier back in Ferelden had more than taught her how to hold her liquor.

Varric regarded his friends and allies thoughtfully, things had gone well at the trade thing today…he was hoping for a more celebratory mood…

Yet, everyone seemed down today.

He glanced up as serene danced her way through the crowd of lowlifes that filled the Hanged Man's lower levels, a tray containing their next round of drinks in hand. As always the elf was poetry in motion, not spilling a drop as she maneuvered through the crowd.

When she had first moved in here, several of the men had made the mistake of thinking her an elven whore, but after several broken fingers the clientele here got the idea that she wasn't.

The elf had a merry smile on her face as slid next to Varric. The lightened his mood considerably…

At least someone here was trying to have a good time.

IOI

Varric had come to an epiphany, it surprised him truth be told. When Lona had asked a few months back to take up the job of Hand he thought she was joking. Maker knows he was no warrior, nor was he some enforcer looking to cut someone's head off. He was a business man and a storyteller, nothing more.

Which was why, the Viscountess had said that she needed him in this position.

It was not exactly what he had expected, and the job was actually quite similar to what he had spent all those years doing for Bartrand. He had become Her Highnessness's facilitator; he kept the nobles off her back, and kept House Amell a whisker ahead of the other noble families here in Kirkwall.

As the War of Lions raged, he was the one who watched Solona's back, his time in the merchant's guild had taught him quite a bit about sniffing out betrayals and traps. Most he did not even bother telling Solona about, he simply dealt with them and moved onto the next.

Of course, there was one major difference between working for Solona and working for his brother…

Her Highnessness actually thanked him for his services, and as he dealt with the nobles, he was gaining either their respect or fear of what he might do to them, and often he did not even have to raise Bianca to get his point across.

That was where Varric's epiphany had come from…

He had discovered that not only was he good at being the Hand, but that he was starting to like it.

That…was the most unexpected thing of all.

IOI

The bard gave them all a bright smile. What was to come next was very dear to heart. In Orlais, even though she was a bard, she would have been seen as less than nothing, a plaything, a prize to be used then discarded.

In the empire, she was either "a rabbit" or a "knife-ear"…

Here she was something more; Solona had made it so, for all the elves of Kirkwall.

She was eager to show Orlais just what her patrons had brought into being…

…To rub their faces in it.

"So," Serene said gamely, "We should probably start discussing the upcoming Orlesian visit."

Everyone at the table groaned.

"I think work can wait until tomorrow Ruby," Varric chuckled.

"Oh this is not work," she smiled, "This is fun, "We need to get this lot ready so that the empress does not think that Solona employs a bunch of barbarians and vagabonds."

Everyone at the table glared at the elf.

She smiled innocently.

"No offense," she cooed.

The group grumbled but fell silent.

She looked at Fenris.

"You need the least work my friend," she purred, "You know how to clean up when royal guests are about."

Fenris glared at her.

"A slave who did not learn how to behave around nobles did not last long in Tevinter," he said coldly.

She smiled conspiratorially, of all of their company; Fenris was the hardest to work with. He wore his past openly, and the pain that he had endured.

She was only trying to help him let go of it.

"But you are not a slave anymore," she reminded him, "And manners are to be expected if we are to impress both the King of Ferelden and the Empress, no?"

She smiled at Anders.

"Her Radiance has always been fascinated by magic; perhaps we can find you something more appropriate for you to wear Anders. We can say you are in the city representing the Grey Wardens."

The apostate snorted. "I don't think abominations get invited to fancy Orlesian parties," he quipped.

"Only to the really fun ones," she smirked.

IOI

The mage shook his head.

The elf was truly strange, and he knew strange…

His days in Vigil's Keep had taught him that.

IOI

Serene, on a roll now, turned to the next face at the table.

Her ruby eyes fell on Aveline.

The guard captain flinched.

"You were once a citizen of the empire, no?"

Aveline stared down into her tankard.

"My Father was a Chevalier; he lost everything when our family's patron was murdered."

Serene gave her a sad look.

"A shame," she cooed, "Such a warrior as yourself would have done very well at the Academie des Chevaliers"

Aveline's eyes narrowed.

"That was my Father's dream, not mine," she said crossly.

"I mean no offense fair Captain," the elf said noticing he anger in the other woman's voice, "It…it is just that you have already shown that you belong in noble circles, your relationship to Lord Hawke…"

Aveline's eyes flashed.

She stood up so fast her stool flipped over, she glared down at the small dark haired elf.

To Serene's credit she did not flinch.

The guard captain glared at the smaller woman.

"I would rather stick a hot poker in my eye than attend the Academie des Chevaliers," she growled, "I know what the chevaliers are like, they claim to be men of honor, and yet spend their days learning loop holes so that they can maintain honor and still play the great game you bards are so proud of!"

If Serene took offense the bard did not show it.

"I actually hold my honor in high esteem," she growled, "I don't sell it away just some spoiled rich boy can call me "Milady."

The guard captain's hands closed into angry fists.

"And as far as my relationship with Hawke goes…that is none of your business. I would appreciate it if you stayed out of it. Or so help me…"

IOI

Varric thought he might have to intervene, he had never seen Aveline so angry.

Fortunately, he did not need to.

The Guard Captain stalked out of the room, drunkards and mercenaries wisely getting out of her way.

Serene followed her leaving with an amused smile.

"Did I say something wrong?" she purred.

Varric shook his head.

Ruby did like to live dangerously.

IOI

Serene settled back down in her chair, she turned her critical eye to the last member of their party.

Ser Graydon Stark.

"Is it my turn now?" he asked, "How wonderful."

The bard giggled.

"First Ser Gray, we need to determine what your purpose is here in Kirkwall," she began.

He gave her a blurry eyed look.

"My purpose?"

"Yes," the elf nodded, "What purpose do you serve in the royal court."

Gray shrugged.

"I serve many functions," he sighed, "Military advisor to House Amell, bodyguard to Lady Bethany when she is out in the field. I have even served as General of Her Grace's forces when she was in exile."

Serene's red eyes lit up.

"Champion," she exclaimed.

Gray gave her an odd look.

"Champion?" he asked.

"You are the Viscountess's champion," she exclaimed, "You are her guard, both physically and of her honor."

Stark shook his head.

"She has Lord Sebastian for that."

The bard was not dissuaded.

"The Empress will have her champion with her," she continued, "The Viscountess will need hers. You are the one who stands up and fights duels in her name if she requires it."

Gray chuckled at that last part.

He remembered quite clearly how the Viscountess had trounced that Magister Hadriana in a magical duel…

If Solona needed him to defend her in a duel, he was two legged Mabari.

Serene's ears twitched, her nose wrinkled slightly.

"Of course, you will need a better suit of armor," she commented, "Fur and leather may work in Ferelden, but we cannot have the Viscountess's champion looking like some southern barbarian."

Gray laughed at that.

Serene gave him a curious look.

"Did I say something funny?"

Gray snorted as he wiped away tears of amusement.

"Not at all, not directly," he chuckled, "It…well…in case you have not noticed mistress elf, I am a southern barbarian, and I am quite proud of that."

He gave her a predatory smile.

"I'm all for helping Her Grace put on a good show, but if any Orlesian doubts the strength of a Fereldan blade. I would simply remind them of the fate of the late King Meghren…"

Serene paled slightly.

"His head made a lovely decoration on the city gates, or so I heard."

The elf coughed.

"Yes…um…well…you may not wish to say that in Her Radiance's presence Ser Stark."

Gray chuckled.

Varric laughed.

"Another drink for our Fereldan friend," he exclaimed, "He actually threw Ruby off her game. That deserves another pint."

"Alas, I cannot accept My Lord Hand," he said rising unsteadily, "I have duty tomorrow, and I'm going to be miserable enough with a hangover. No…need to make it worse, good night all."

The Fereldan swayed slightly as he made his way out of the Hanged Man, Fenris rose and went to see that the human made it home safely.

There were still those foolish enough in Lowtown to attack a knight if they thought they could win.

Serene winced.

"Problems Ruby," Varric asked.

She gave him a suffering look.

"They're hopeless," she murmured, "The empress is going to be appalled."

"Then we just have to hope that Her Highnessness can save us again," the dwarf said.

Serene sighed.

"We can hope."

IOI

Beneath the keep, Lady Alana was led by the guards to the last cell in dungeons.

The senior guard rapped loudly on the door.

"Wake up Death's Hand," he growled, "You have a visitor."

The Lady waited as the guards did their duty, she watched as they opened the slot in the cell door. She saw the prisoner stick out his hands.

She looked upon the claws of Death's Hand for the first time.

The part of her that was still that little girl raised to fear demons started. She…she had heard what Daylen Amell had done to himself, but…to see it with her own eyes.

It was…disturbing to say the least.

The guard waited until the prisoner had backed up to the far wall, only then did they open the door.

"We will be right outside if you need us Milady," the senior guard said.

She nodded and stepped into the room.

The Mistress of Rumors looked upon Death's Hand for the first time.

Even dirty and dressed in plain clothes did little to hide regality in the young man. His long black hair might be dirty and unkept, but none would have mistaken him for a servant or commoner.

She looked into those blue Amell eyes, as she had looked upon Solona's…

What she saw disturbed her.

Those eyes burned with a savage fire, hate and ambition burned like torches behind those eyes. The nervous twitch of his right eye hinted at the madness that lay behind that handsome face.

Death's Hand sneered at her.

"You are not Leandra," he purred, "But you obviously have enough pull with my sister to gain an audience with me."

He raised his manacled hands, his claws extended to their full length.

"Who are you old woman?"

Lady Alana sat up a little straighter.

"I am family," she said flatly.

Daylen chuckled.

"Considering how my family has treated me of late, that is not the most glowing of recommendations."

He lowered his clawed hand, and smirked at her.

"I don't recognize your face, and Mother always made sure that I would recognize one of my cousins…"

His smile turned more predatory.

"Which makes you a Vael," he said coldly, "which means that you are one of the people responsible for putting me in this hole."

He leaned forward.

"Give me one reason why I should not take your face off before the guards can stop me?"

The old woman chuckled.

"Hardly the reaction I would expect from someone who was once Viscount of Kirkwall."

His blue eyes flashed with fury.

"I AM THE VISCOUNT!" he snarled, "The rightful ruler of my home…betrayed!"

He sat back his claws dug into the stone floor.

"Betrayed by my own family and my ungrateful subjects, they would see me caged, a lion…his will broken."

Alana smiled at him.

"But you are not broken, are you Lord Daylen?"

He shrugged.

"It depends on who you ask," he said softly.

She shook her head no.

"You are not broken," she said…

Her eyes flashed.

"That is good."

Now it was his turn to look confused.

"Eh?"

She shook her head.

"I have come to love your sister dear boy," she said, "She is smart and skilled."

Daylen smiled.

"But?" he said.

"But," the mistress of rumors said, "She is not ready for what is coming. The world is changing. I have eyes and ears everywhere boy, and do you know what they tell me?"

Death's Hand smirked.

"I'm sure your about to tell me Lady Rosewood," he purred.

"You know me?"

"Oh yessss," Daylen hissed, "My Father talked about you, he said you were the one voice of wisdom in dour Starkhaven."

Daylen's smile turned wolfish.

"I had people on their way to your…retirement home," he sneered, "They were to bring me your head."

If his admission shocked the Lady of Rumors she said nothing.

Daylen shrugged.

"Does that surprise you?"

"Not at all," she said, "It is what any wise man would do if they were looking to seize Starkhaven."

"I'm glad you approve."

Her eyes turned hard.

"I said I understood boy, I never said I approve."

Daylen snorted.

"Whatever."

He leaned back against his cell wall.

"What do you want of me old one?"

She sighed.

"Our world is falling apart," she said, "The Templars are growing stronger with each passing day, they no longer seek guidance from the chantry, and it is not just here…."

Daylen did not respond. He listened.

It seemed he had one redeeming quality.

"The Templars have stockpiled lyrium, that mindless fool Beatrix has let a Tevinter…a Tevinter, Lord Daylen take control of the seekers of truth."

She shook her head.

"I must take steps to protect our family from the darkness that is to come. All that matters is our family, Starkhaven and Kirkwall. You believed that once Lord Daylen, family comes first."

He closed his eyes, he chuckled.

"Why not tell this to my dear sister?"

"I have," Alana said, "But I choose not to put all my eggs in one basket, dear boy."

She gave him a hard look.

"There is still a chance that your forces might win this war. I need to make sure that you will do what is necessary to protect **our** family."

Daylen's eyes flashed hungrily.

"Then let me out," he said, "I will give you what you need…and more!"

Alana shook her head.

"I will not abandon Solona, and neither should you, you are still her brother."

He glared daggers at her.

"She killed my wife and child." He said flatly.

"She did not," Alana said, "and in the interest of peace, I'm willing to give you the name of the one who did. You may flay her alive if you see fit. Such is what happens to those who dare to murder their betters."

Death's Hand sneered.

He realized that he liked this woman.

It would be a shame to rid the world of her, once she had given him what he needed of course.

"Tell me," he purred.

"Not just yet," she said, "I want your word on your parent's souls. You will honor my request if the war turns in your favor."

Daylen smirked.

"You have no reason to trust me?"

"You are an Amell," she said, "Your name is what matters, to you; I know that from everything I have seen and heard about you. That is why you will keep your word."

"Milady," he snarled.

"Your word…Lord Daylen."

IOI

Death's Hand flexed his claws.

The old cow was clever, almost too clever, and she thought she had him all figured out.

_Daylen Amell was a scion of House Amell, everything he had done was for the good of his family._

_He would continue to do so if he could…_

_Alas…he was not Daylen Amell anymore._

Daylen had died with his wife and child, all loyalty to his home and family had died with her.

He was not Daylen Amell.

He was Death's Hand…

And Death's Hand wanted to see the entire Maker forsaken world in flames.

How sad for them all.

He smiled at the mistress of rumors.

She **was** too smart for her own good.

That was his victory.

"You have my word…

He smiled at her.

"An Amell always keeps his promises."


	14. Troubles of Night and Day

**Chapter 14: Troubles of Day and Night**

The trade negotiations made for a long and tedious week for Viscountess Amell and her family.

Solona spent as much time playing mediator between the bickering nobles as she spent keeping the negotiations on track. The Teyrn of Ostwick remained hesitant to open up new avenues of trade. He saw no reason to change the way things had run since his people continued to profit. The Margrave of Ansburg called him a coward, stating that stagnation was no way to run a city. Ostwick was open to new trade deals, provided that they all met the approval of the Grand Cleric.

The Wycome delegation, who had been a day late to the proceedings, called the Tanters prudes. New markets meant new profits, and new profits meant more coin to fun the revelry that the Wycomers had come to enjoy.

That little argument had almost resulted in a duel between several members of both delegations.

The Scholars from the University of Markham agreed, but wished for the Viscountess's permission to try out some new agricultural projects on several of the outlying farms outside of Kirkwall.

Solona offered to play facilitator for the scholars, but then both Ansburg and Tantervale became offended. The Tanters felt what the Markham considered as research was against the will of the Maker, and Ansburg feared that the Markham's research might hurt their profits.

The Margrave said that the Viscountess should not trust the advice of charlatans and quacks.

The scholars, of course, took offense to such a statement, another near fight ensued.

Solona could not tell if it was just her condition, but she had to fight temptation not to turn every delegate at the table into a toad.

It would be a petty revenge, but also…very satisfying.

She kept her temper though, allowing Bran to step in whenever she needed him to.

She came to look forward to the breaks for lunch and dinner, a chance to slip away from the chaos and be with her family.

It also gave her a chance to speak candidly with her Hand.

She and Varric had talked at great length about what had been gained, and what they likely had to give up appeasing their trade partners.

The dwarf had also managed to find a contact willing to travel to Estwatch, provided he get his coin in advance of course…

The Viscountess shook her head.

She informed Varric that she would not agree to that, the man could have half his fee up front, but she had no desire to be conned out of good coin and not see anything for her trouble.

Part of her wished that Isabela was here, the pre-Qunari Isabela that was…

The Pirate Queen might have served as a better emissary, and Solona could likely have trusted her more than one of Varric's contacts. She trusted the dwarf, but had no basis to trust his allies.

He promised to make the deal.

Meanwhile the Qunari and the Templars continued to watch the negotiations. The large gray giants said nothing, but it was clear that they were trying to absorb everything that was happening around them.

Solona could not help but wonder what they made of the chaotic negotiations; did they see her willingness to negotiate as a strength or a weakness?

She could not say for certain.

The Templars were easier to read. Meredith did not come back after that first day, but Cullen remained, as well as a Templar that Hawke called Ser Thrask.

According to her cousin Thrask was a good man who would not make snap judgments, he had encountered the man several times during his adventuring days through Lowtown and the Templar seemed to be an honest man.

Cullen was at least a known commodity, the Viscountess had spent enough time around the man to gage is reactions. He clearly did not approve of either those from Wycome or Ansburg, but said nothing that might hurt her negotiations. Meredith had developed a means of undermining her by clearing her throat quite loudly if she heard something that she did not agree with.

The jackal's interruptions were annoying beyond belief.

She had come to welcome the end of the day. When she could climb out of the uncomfortable chair and stretch her legs for a moment or two and arch her sore back. The pillow she used helped her back for a while, but even that became uncomfortable after several hours. She would also occasionally slip down to her old training room in the lower levels of the keep. She welcomed any chance to find release, being forced to hide her magic these last few days had become very painful. The constant presence of at least a few Templars in the keep meant that she could not let her powers loose as much as she preferred.

There were times that she feared that her powers would just explode.

It was…frustrating.

Magic hummed in her blood; for too long she had denied its release…she feared that she might make some mistake.

That could mean the end of House Amell if she was not careful.

When she finally was able to call recess for the day, she almost cheered.

She welcomed the chance to slip away from the squabbling nobles, to find a chance to spend quiet time with her family…

…To spend some time with her beloved husband.

It had been too long since they had been together, even longer since they had had a chance to spend any time to themselves. Their baby was due shortly before the start of the New Year…

She had hoped that the two of them would have at least a little time to themselves to prepare.

The only time that they could be alone was at night, when the two of them were able to retire to their private quarters.

She would lie on her side in their bed while he massaged her neck and shoulders.

She loved the gentle warmth and pressure of his hands…the peace of these quiet moments should be treasured she knew…

A few more months, and they would a child to deal with, and even though they both knew that they would love the child, they still worried about what was to come.

Sometimes in these moments, irrational fears would spring up in her mind, afraid that Sebastian no longer desired her like this, that he might think her disgusting…

He chuckled when she mentioned that to him, at first she thought him making fun of her, and almost burst into tears.

He held her close and rocked her as if he would a child.

She sighed happily.

"You are beautiful my love," he purred. "Made even more so by the fact that you carry our child inside you."

He smiled shyly.

"You are both my gift from the Maker, I do not doubt that. You are the proof that I deserve to find some happiness that we both do."

The Viscountess chuckled.

"You are a silver tongued demon Sebastian Vael."

"And I'm crazy about you," he murmured, kissing her neck.

He snuggled next to her then, holding her close, his fingers running gentle down her thigh.

Slowly…she drifted off to sleep.

The troubles of the day forgotten…

…At least…

…for now…

IOI

Somewhere in Kirkwall, the line separating the world of the living from everything else blurred slightly. The air hummed with magic, as a door, one that had not been opened for centuries if ever…cracked open slightly…

For a brief moment a figure stood at that door, trying to step back into the world, struggling against the ether, fighting to find their way back.

The magic faltered, then rippled, and finally collapsed.

The door slammed shut once again.

The figure on the other side screamed as it was flung back into nothingness.

In a small hovel in the Alienage, two mages picked themselves up off the floor.

The toddler ran to his mother's side, concern and fear coloring his cherub like face.

Morrigan thought of pushing the boy away, but did not; it is what Flemeth would have done when she was a little girl…

She had no intention of becoming like her mother.

Merrill whimpered. Tears ran from her huge green eyes…

They had been so close, so very, very close.

Once Morrigan had soothed her son, assured the boy that she was well, she rose and dusted herself off.

She cursed under her breath.

Once again checked the information she had written down from her Mother's grimoire.

_What they had been doing, it should have worked. Everything was flawless, even the fluff headed Dalish girl had not messed up this time._

Morrigan's amber eyes narrowed.

_This was not going to work. This Eluvian had been damaged too badly, despite what the elf had sacrificed to restore it. It felt like something was fighting them, trying to usurp their spell…_

Morrigan glanced at the Dalish; the girl had traded a part of her soul to the demon to get what she wanted, t'was possible that it was trying to use the mirror for its own purposes.

She would not allow that to happen, not until she and he son were safely away from here…

Not until he was someplace safe, where Flemeth could never touch him, not until he was strong enough to defend himself anyway.

The witch sighed.

They were not strong enough.

She needed another mage.

The witch reached out with her magical senses, the Eluvian had pulsed magic that though different might have been detectable to both mages and Templars.

She began to weave a concealing spell to hide their exact location.

As she reached out…she felt something touch her mind. It was the barest of touches, subtle and careful, but very, very strong.

Morrigan touched back, and she felt the other mage's probe recede.

"Stay here," she ordered her son and Merrill.

The young witch stepped out into the night.

She paused in the square of the Alienage, the place far nicer than the one she had seen in Denerim, but that was not surprising.

Many humans here called Solona Amell an elf lover, that she cared more for them than her own people.

Morrigan would have called such an attitude in a ruler foolish once, but Aedan had given her a different perspective on the world. He had unified both human and elves to fight the Archdemon.

He had shown the elven people's worth to her.

She could not sense exactly where the magic had come from, but it was clearly not far away. Not in the Gallows, the magic that she had sensed had come from a different direction.

She reached out cautiously, trying to follow the touch of the mage that had sensed their spell.

Not in Lowtown, she realized, but farther up the cliffs…

She reached out to Hightown; she could sense the faded presence of a very powerful mage.

One who had managed to conceal herself quite well.

The witch smiled.

Not a circle's pet then, likely an apostate, some child born with wealth enough to hide from the chantry's zealots.

She would need to seek out this mage if she was to get herself and her son to safety.

That…was all that mattered now.

IOI

Morrigan slipped back into Merrill's hovel. The Dalish was exhausted, and likely would not be able to continue their work this eve.

Her son yawned widely as she entered a cute little smile on his face.

Morrigan sighed.

The child was making her grow soft, or perhaps it was looking at the child's face, seeing her Aedan reflected there.

It was a weakness, she recognized that…

But…it was a weakness that she did not wish to do anything about.

Aedan had…gotten past her mother's teachings, before she had met the warden she had not thought of things like regret and compassion, there had been only power and the quest to increase her supply of it.

Aedan Cousland had changed all that. He had changed her. She was not sure if it was for good or ill.

"We shall try again tomorrow," she informed Merrill, "For now you may sleep as long as you wish tis necessary that we both regain our strength. I will have hunting to do tomorrow."

Merrill let out a shuddering sigh of relief, part of her hungered to finish their spell, but she recognized that continued work would mean nothing if it simply collapsed on them again.

No…rest…rest would be welcome.

She staggered back to her bed, collapsing on the rough mattress.

The Dalish smiled serenely. They had been so close; she had almost managed to…

She sighed happily.

"Hang on lethallan," she murmured, "I'm coming."

IOI

After the briefest of rests Morrigan rose again, her son and the elf slept peacefully.

She reached out and bound the boy in a protective ward. He would sleep undiscovered until she returned.

She stepped out into the pre-dawn light, clad in her black leather robes and silken robes of deep maroon. Her staff firmly in her hand, her face hidden behind the cloaks cowl.

Once she was out of eye shot of any of the slowly waking elves, the witch stretched out her arms and changed.

She shrank as feathers sprouted; her face stretched becoming a long black beak.

A small raven took to the sky with a harsh caw. She circled once around the Alienage before heading for Hightown.

In this form she would go unnoticed; she would be able to search for the mage who hid among the nobles in safety.

Once she had found this mage, she would have their help.

…One way, or another.


	15. A Troubled Blessing

**Chapter 15: A Troubled Blessing**

"How are we feeling today?"

Anders question amused the Viscountess. She had asked the healer to come up to the keep to examine her. It was not that she did not trust the midwife, who was helping her, or the healers assigned to the keep, but there were things that she wanted to keep quiet.

She had to be guarded around so many. It was nice to take a moment and lay down that burden.

Around Anders she did not have to be careful, he knew what she was. She did not have to spend her strength maintaining her concealment spells.

"I'm great," she said dryly, "Aside from the fact that it feels like I have a great kicking boulder inside of me."

Anders chuckled.

"Then things are progressing normally," he smiled, "Perhaps your little one wishes to be a man of action."

Solona's eyes lit up.

"Can…can you tell if it is a boy?"

The mage smiled.

"I cannot see the future Your Excellency," he said, "Merely making speculation and polite conversation."

Some of the light faded from her eyes, magic could do much…but…

_She should not have gotten her hopes up._

"I thought you might say that," she murmured.

"Everything seems to be progressing nicely," he added trying to cheer her up, "You must be patient."

Solona nodded.

The healer tended to his duties with little comment as she lay on her bed in the Viscountess's quarters. Sebastian sat reading quietly in a chair nearby. He pretended not to be watching them, but she knew her husband well enough to know when he was feeling protective.

She smiled slightly. Sebastian could be so very dear to her.

The Keep was finally starting to settle down now that the trade conference had concluded. She had made some headway with her neighbors; both Ansburg and Markham had pledged to do what they could to help deal with the lingering after effects of Daylen trying to starve the city onto his side. Starkhaven had offered to supply a small force to help defend the trade routes until Solona got her city guard back up to the size it needed to be.

The Viscountess had embraced the prince and the Rosewoods as they had departed. Alana had given her one final warning to watch her back. She had honored her promise to the old woman and introduced Bethany to Liam, if anything came out of it, it would now be up to them.

Goran had seemed a little nervous the morning he had left. During the trade conference, Varric's people had noticed the prince talking to Flora Harimann. The prince it seemed was intrigued by her, and she seemed intrigued by his stronger stance. Surprisingly, the Lady seemed interested in speaking again.

The news made Solona roll her eyes. Flora's Mother had tried to magic her daughter into marrying Prince Goran. How ironic it would be if the two ended up together after all.

Tantervale and Ostwick remained on the fence regarding increased trade, The Viscountess suspected Meredith's hand in that. The Tanters zealotry to the chantry, combined by Ostwick's concern about the Qunari had blocked her from gaining even more ground.

The Wycome had offered to hold a party in her honor if she ever decided to visit their fair city, but that was not surprising.

There was no greater center for revelry in the Free Marches than Wycome.

Alas, Solona did not think she would have much time for revelry.

Varric's man had left for Estwatch hoping to gain an audience with the new strong man there, this so called "King of Blades" it sounded like an overblown title to her, but apparently it had come to carry a bit of weight with the smugglers and pirates that hunted the waking sea.

Then there was the Orlesian visit to attend to, she would need to decide how best to keep the peace with both the Ferelden and Orlesian delegations. If Orlais was rattling the saber, she needed to proceed carefully. She…

"Your Excellency?"

Solona blinked her eyes. Had she been daydreaming?

"I'm sorry," she murmured apologetically, "Just thinking…what did you say?"

Anders' face turned serious.

"I said that I was hoping that you could do something about the security measures that Meredith has put in place against the mages here," he repeated, "Either that, or that you might consider continuing the arrangement I had with your brother."

Anders gave her a wan smile.

"Both would be nice if you could manage it."

The Viscountess sighed.

_She knew that this conversation would come up sooner or later._

Since Anders had discovered her secret in fact, he had asked her for nothing, until now. Master Alec had warned her that associating with the healer was dangerous, and not simply because of the fact that he had chosen to bond with a fade spirit.

No…what made Anders so dangerous to her was his passion.

He believed so strongly in his goal, that was no vice in as of itself, but the problem with such strong belief is that it could sometimes grow into fanaticism.

Alec had also feared that the man had a bit of a martyr complex, he saw his willingness to bond with a spirit of the fade as proof of that. He was so willing to sacrifice himself for the goal that her master had feared that he would forget about the people that were a part of that goal.

Alec had not wanted her and Bethany to be caught in the firestorm that Anders unleashed if he did decide to become a sacrifice to the cause.

Solona was no fool. She realized she had a chance now to moderate Anders zeal, to be a check on whatever it was he and the mage underground was planning. It was not easy given the jackal's willingness to squeeze the mages, but she thought that it could be done.

She had no desire to throw her mage brothers and sisters at the Templars.

The Knight-Commander's iron handed approach to the mages had only fed Anders desire to resist her. Early in his reign, Death's Hand had offered to aid Anders and the mage underground here in Kirkwall, providing them with coin and lyrium in exchange for their support when Meredith finally decided to move against House Amell.

The Viscountess still hoped to avoid that confrontation if she could.

The Jackal was dangerous, she did not doubt that, but Meredith was still bound by Chantry Law, as was the Templar order itself. Elthina struggled to maintain the status quo.

As long as the Grand Cleric still guided the chantry. The Knight-Commander could do nothing against her.

If something happened to Elthina…it could all blow up in their faces.

Daylen had likely planned to provoke a confrontation with the Templars at a moment of his choosing, perhaps even to use Neria's foul sorceries to give him the edge he needed to deal with the Knight-Commander once and for all. He would have used the mages in this plot as well, with an emphasis on the word **use**.

Death's Hand cared nothing for the mages' welfare. If they all had to die so that he could get rid of Meredith he would have considered that a just sacrifice.

She did not agree the mages were more than simply her fellows; they were her subjects and deserving of her protection.

"I have spoken with the court," she informed Anders, "Many are pleased with these new security measures. I cannot simply remove them without cause."

The mage's eyes hardened.

"Without cause," he repeated, "Mages are suffering in the Gallows, **there **is your cause. Your brothers and sisters are suffering. Do you care **nothing** for that?"

"I **do** care," she said coolly, "You wish to see those security measures dropped Anders, then give me something that I can sell to the court. Show me that the mages are being victimized, and that they have committed themselves to obeying the law of the chantry."

"You wish us all to be good little slaves then?" he snorted.

Solona frowned.

"I wish them to be members of the circle of magi," she said flatly, "All mages are welcome to make an appearance before me in the court, and it is their right as citizens of Kirkwall. Remind them of those rights. If Meredith seeks to block their appearance that is something I can take before the Grand Cleric. If she retaliates against the mages who speak to me, that is something I can take to the Grand Cleric."

"What if she makes them Tranquil?"

Solona sighed.

"If she makes harrowed mages tranquil, then **that** is against chantry law. I have received word from the Divine's office in Orlais. We have Seekers coming to aid us in the hunt for Neria Surana."

She smiled, letting that news sink in.

"The Seekers are loyal to the Divine first and foremost Anders. Their mandate states that both mages and Templars fall under their jurisdiction. If Meredith pushes too hard with the Seekers here…"

Anders nodded, he could see what she was getting at, she hoped.

"As for the deal my brother made with you, I shall do nothing about the contacts you have already established. I know how hard Meredith has been on your people…"

"On **our **people Your Excellency," he reminded her, "You are one of us, in case you have forgotten."

"I was not referring to magic," she said hotly, "I was referring to your membership in the mage underground. I have no problem you rescuing mages from being made tranquil against chantry law, or helping children escape the circle if you can find proper masters to train them."

Sebastian glanced up; she knew his loyalty to the chantry and Elthina.

She turned to her husband, to explain.

"This is not about the chantry, this is about the Templars. You know as well as I that there have been incidents of them going more…extreme than what might be considered prudent. If Meredith is abusing her power love, than that must be dealt with," she informed her husband, "I'm not pushing for open war, I'm asking the mages to be patient and let us at least try to remove the Knight-Commander peacefully. If she resists being under Chantry law…"

"Then she has no right to remain Knight-Commander," Sebastian sighed, "I know that love, but please be careful, this is about more than just the mages."

Anders glared at him.

"Your children may just be mages Lord Consort," he reminded the former brother, "They may share the same gift as their mother. Do you not want them to grow up safe?"

Sebastian sighed.

Solona hated that the weight of this argument fell so heavily upon them, but Anders made a very good point.

Neither her husband nor the healer looked happy, but that was the one trait of compromise.

Both sides gained something, even though it was not everything that they had wanted.

Anders nodded.

"I will speak with the others," he promised, "Try to convince them to lay low until the Seekers have a chance to deal with the blood mage and her army."

A bit of light flickered in his eyes.

"But if a mage's life is threatened, we must act," he said, a little magic flickered over his skin, "**justice demands that innocents not suffer.**"

Anders took several deep breaths, calming himself.

The magic faded from his skin.

He gave Solona a chagrinned look.

"Sorry," he said.

"It is alright," she said with a slight smile, "I do not ask you to sit idly by if someone needs your help."

The healer nodded and began collecting his things.

"Everything seems to be progressing nicely," he said, "You likely may be confined to bed rest in the weeks leading up to the births however, these things can be…delicate."

Solona nodded, she feared that might be the case. She…

Her eyes widened.

"Did…did you say births?"

The healer's smile turned impish.

"You have not checked in a while have you?" he asked.

Solona shook her head. Sebastian was on his feet.

"Is something wrong? What is going on?"

Solona reached inside her with her magic, she almost gasped when she felt it.

She…she had not checked, not since she had initially suspected…

Happiness, worry, joy, and disbelief shown in her blue eyes as tears began to fall.

"Wondrous," she murmured, "Simply wondrous."

"Love what is it?" Sebastian asked.

She reached out and hugged him, both laughter and tears in her eyes.

_She should have known, given how quickly she had started to show._

She had been angry and clumsy when she checked the first time, no wonder she had missed it, she was much more careful now.

"Two," she said happily, "Two Sebastian."

It took the lord consort a few minutes to grasp what his wife was saying.

Anders slipped quietly out of the keep; Solona's Tevinters would see him out down one of the private entrances.

The Viscountess was not concerned about that right now. Only one thing concerned her, a most joyous and most mixed blessing…

Twins.

Twins for the royal house of Amell.

A most amazing thing indeed.

IOI

The warm autumn night drew the Amells out into the garden for a meal under the stars. The whole family came to celebrate the royal news.

Leandra was ecstatic; the thought of two royal births would do more than satisfy the nobles of the strength of House Amell. Though there was sadness as well…

Memories of Carver's loss still haunted the older woman.

Bethany smiled slightly at the news, as she tended to little Carver, her son was trying to walk, and she did her best to help him.

Garrett decided to make light of the whole affair, he knew what it was like to have twin babies in a home after all.

Solona would likely need all the help she could get.

The Viscountess was surprised that she did not see Aveline at Garrett's side, but Varric had commented to her about the problems between her cousin and his guard captain.

Perhaps she could speak with Aveline, help her and Garrett work through whatever problems they were having.

Sebastian was almost beside himself, he had been preparing to become a father, but now it seemed that they would be doing double the duty.

Happy and nervous at the same time, those words defined both the expectant parents to be.

Solona stepped away from the party for a moment, seeking solitude among the last stubbornly blooming flowers of the season.

Twins.

If her mother were here, she would be more than pleased; House Amell would have both an heir and a spare so to speak, but…

…There would be risk here as well.

Though a double blessing, twins could be dangerous for any royal family. History was littered with tales of kingdoms and empires torn apart by feuding brothers.

Twins could interfere was this right of succession.

It was a troubling thought.

A large black crow alighted not far from her; the bird cawed loudly startling the Viscountess.

She turned to shoo it away, but it sat there and simply stared, watching with eyes that were more than intelligent…

Solona's eyes widened.

Her magic senses flared,

This…**this was no mere bird!**

**Assassin!**

She was about to cry out, summoning her guards, but paused when she sensed the creature reach out to her.

It was not trying to dominate her will, just calm her.

She watched the bird cautiously.

It waddled out of sight of the rest of the Amells.

Solona followed, as it led her behind a large hedge.

Once they were out of eyeshot, the bird began to change…to transform.

Solona steeled herself, wrapping herself in a magic shield, if this was some kind of assassination attempt…

The would-be-killer would be sorry.

Less than a breath later, the bird was gone, in its place stood a pale skinned young woman.

Clad in a patchwork robe of leather, cloth, and feathers, the woman did not look like any mage Solona had ever seen, a cloak of dark maroon covered most of her, but did little to hide the danger that crackled in the woman's form. The cowl of a senior enchanter hid much of her features, though she doubted the girl had ever studied in a circle of magi.

The Viscountess could see amber colored eyes glittering beneath the cowl, eyes lit with both cunning and power.

Eyes that looked so familiar…

The mage chuckled mirthlessly.

"Well, well," she purred in a seductive voice, "What do we have here?"

Solona's eyes narrowed.

"Conversations usually begin with introductions," she said coolly.

The other woman laughed lightly.

"Tis most unusual," the dark woman added, "I came here seeking a mage, perhaps some court sorcerer, and what do I find…?"

Pale teeth shown as the woman's smile turned predatory.

"A mage clad in a crown and robes of state…tis most …_interesting_."

Solona did not let the woman distract her with her statement, she readied to defend herself if needs be.

"I am Solona, Viscountess of Kirkwall, whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

The other mage relaxed slightly, leaning on a staff adorned with feathers and bones.

Her amusement at the situation was clear.

"Such a civil greeting?" she said, "But I should not expect any less from your kind noble born, I have known others after all."

The dark woman curtseyed sarcastically.

"Tis a pleasure to meet you Solona of Kirkwall, you may call me…Morrigan."

The Viscountess eyes widened.

She…she **knew** that name, if this…if this was the same woman?

In her heart, she knew it was.

Morrigan, a hero of the Blight, a witch of the wilds…

…And…if she remembered correctly, a former lover of her friend Aedan Cousland.

**Oh Maker!**


	16. To Aid a Witch

**Chapter 16: To Aid a Witch**

"We cannot trust her."

Solona glanced around at her advisors and family. They all currently sat around the dinner table in the Amell family apartments.

Morrigan's arrival had provoked a bit of reaction, the guards were unhappy that someone could get that close to the Viscountess without being detected. Sebastian was concerned that whatever the Ferelden apostate wanted that it might harm his wife and children.

Ser Graydon Stark was furious.

He had met Morrigan before.

"She is a monster Your Grace," he growled, his hands clasped to keep them from clenching into angry fists.

"I still bear the scars from what she did to me in Denerim. She and the wardens slaughtered my men, they killed my…"

Graydon's jaw clicked shut, he tried to push the image of Cauthrien losing her head out of his mind, and about the warden picking up her sword after like it was some kind of trophy.

And he…he had been powerless to stop it; the witch's lightning had left him wounded and unable to move.

All he could do was lay there why the throne was decided. He might not have agreed with the things Teyrn Loghain had done in the end, but that did not mean that he agreed with the warden and his allies slaughtering the Teyrn's guard. Those men had been his friends…

And now they were all gone.

Cauthrien was gone.

"Send her away Your Grace," he advised, "Please, before she harms anyone else."

IOI

Solona gave the knight a pitying look.

"I understand your concerns," she began, "All of them, but from what I have heard Morrigan has no interest in the affairs of Kirkwall, she needs help with this spell she is working on, whatever it is, and then she will leave."

Garrett Hawke snorted.

"She is Flemeth's daughter," he murmured, "If she is anything like her mother we cannot doubt that she has an agenda more than what she is saying. Anyone raised by that woman could not be trusted to behave as we expect."

Sebastian gave his wife a concerned look.

"Love, think about the babies, who knows what this…this woman, truly wants. What if she has allied herself with one of your enemies? What if she is leading you into a trap?"

"Aedan trusted her," Solona reminded them, "She fought at his side."

"She seduced him," Stark added, "From what I saw in Denerim and heard from the people that worked with the warden, the witch had Lord Aedan wrapped around her little finger once."

Ser Graydon shook his head.

"You cannot expect his judgment to be clear on this Morrigan considering that."

Solona pursed her lips. She remembered what Aedan had told her about the two women in his life. He credited Morrigan from bringing him back from the darkness, of giving his soul a chance to recover so that he was able to fall in love with Leliana. He…he had not told her everything about their relationship, but it was clear that he still thought of the woman as not just a friend, but a confidant.

Whatever had happened it was clear that their relationship had been beyond merely physical.

Solona had reached out with her magic, when she had spoken to the witch, she sensed no deception there. Morrigan was careful and guarded, but that did not make her duplicitous.

When the Viscountess had mentioned Aedan's name, just for a moment she saw a touch of sadness wash over the witch's haughty expression. Whatever had passed between the two still was a part of her. Solona had also heard the witch to refer to the warden several times as "Her Aedan" during their conversation.

She clearly retained at least some affection for her former lover. The Viscountess did notice to stay away from the subject of Aedan's wife around the witch.

Apparently, Morrigan did not feel the same way about the Lady Cousland as she did her husband.

Whatever had happened during the Blight it did not matter now. Morrigan was here and needed her help. Gray's fear of Morrigan siding with her enemies was not an idol concern. If House Amell did not help the witch, she might go elsewhere for aid.

If the witch sided with Death's Hand's forces, particularly with Neria Surana…

…That could be bad.

A report had been delivered shortly after they had invited the witch into the keep.

Neria had struck again.

A trade post she had established recently had been attacked and destroyed.

A lone survivor was allowed by the red witch to return to Kirkwall. The guard did not know all the details of what had happened. According to him everything had been fine, he had been on watch when the attack had begun, he tried to awaken the officers so that they could organize a counter attack, but it had been for naught.

The other officers were all dead; they had apparently died in their sleep before the attack had even begun.

The red witch's forces had seized the post, and all the goods that had been stored there. Neria's lieutenants had spared the merchants, but sent them on their way empty handed, but only after they executed every one of Solona's men save one.

He carried a message from Neria:

Free Death's Hand, and return the crown to him, or more people would die.

Solona had been shocked by the ferocity of the attack, and she was unsure what had happened to the officers. According to the survivor, there had not been a single mark on them, they had simply not woken up, and there had been no trace of poison and no wounds on the bodies.

Was this some new power the witch had gained? Had she discovered a way to move her men unseen?

She would need to consult her old master's journals.

In the meantime, she would much rather have Morrigan as a neutral party or better yet an ally, rather than have the witch working with Neria and her allies.

Her mind was made up.

She would help the witch of the wilds, both because of her friendship with Aedan, and her desire to help a fellow mage.

Not that she intended to go into this without help.

She would aid the witch, but she would do so under the watchful gaze of both Anders and Fenris. The rebel warden and his spirit ally would be something the witch would not expect. The Tevinter elf would likely not approve, but would no doubt see the value in getting Morrigan out of their city as soon as possible.

It was a dangerous game she was playing, she was aware of that, but what choice did she have?

Kirkwall had enough problems right now.

She did not need Morrigan to become yet another.

IOI

A few hours later she found herself moving through Lowtown. Morrigan led the way with the Viscountess, Fenris, and Anders trailing behind her.

Anders tried to engage the witch on conversation it was not working out so well.

"So," he said dryly, "You and Commander Aedan huh?"

The witch snorted.

"Tis none of your concern little man," she purred.

"I mean no disrespect," he said good-naturedly, "I just never thought the Commander the type. I thought he preferred red heads to brunettes."

Morrigan's back stiffened slightly.

"Who my Aedan chose to be with after we ended our…adventure is his business alone," she said frostily, "You should consider it wise to let the matter drop, lest you say something you cannot take back."

Fenris snorted.

"Veiled threats witch?" he growled, "I suppose that makes you better than the Magisters in Tevinter."

Morrigan rolled her eyes.

"You are starting to sound like a fool I knew elf, he also did not see the value of my friendship."

She flashed him a predatory smile.

"My Aedan gave him what he deserved."

Solona winced; she knew her friend's temper.

"And what was that?" she asked.

Morrigan smirked.

"He made him King of Ferelden," she said, "He will get to spend his life dealing with squabbling fools and holding the weight of an entire nation on his shoulders."

Morrigan chuckled.

"Given Alistair's regard for such things, tis a just punishment I think."

Solona sighed.

She knew how heavy a crown could be. Dealing with Death's Hand, trying to put down her renegade nobles, and the recent trade meeting showed just how heavy it could be.

Now…she had both the Orlesians and the Fereldans coming. Morrigan's mention of King Alistair peeked her curiosity.

"What is King Alistair like?" she asked, "He is coming here soon, for a meeting."

Morrigan chuckled.

"Hopefully he does not bore you as much as he did me," She sneered, "As for his manner; he is a fool, as I said. Tis his Templar upbringing if you ask me."

The witch's expression turned thoughtful.

"You would be wise to hide your true nature from him," she advised, "Alistair talks far too much; you do not need him mentioning your…gifts to some doe eyed fool he is trying to impress."

"I will keep that in mind."

"Wise of you."

Morrigan led them into the Alienage. The Viscountess noticed how the elves retreated away from the dark woman's advance. It was clear that the elves here had learned quickly to stay out of Morrigan's way. She might have been wrong but she thought that she had spotted a female Qunari retreat into one of the hovels, one of the Tamassran.

_Now what are they doing poking around in the Alienage?_

She reminded herself to check in with Bethany, her cousin was still Viceroy of the Alienage.

She had no desire to see the elves slide back into the poverty and hopeless that she had tried so hard to eliminate.

Morrigan led them up to a familiar looking hovel; she knocked idly with the end of her staff.

The door unlocked.

Solona had to stifle a gasp.

Merrill stood before her, but she…she did not look well. She did not look well at all.

The Dalish looked exhausted, dark circles ringed her eyes, she had also lost weight, which given her already slender form was not a good thing.

There was also an almost manic look in the Dalish's eyes, a wildness that the Viscountess had never seen before.

A look that made Merrill look to be on the verge of madness.

"Oh…hello Lady Lona," she said in a chipper voice, "Have you agreed to help us?"

Solona nodded, trying to keep the worried expression off her face.

_Oh Merrill, what have you done to yourself now?_

The Dalish nodded exaggeratedly, her eyes sparkled with a strange light.

"Wonderful," she gushed, "Oh simply wonderful, you will not imagine what we have accomplished. Come and see!"

Merrill ushered them into her hovel, a strange looking mirror now stood in the center of the room, his glass gray and cloudy.

Anders looked a little shocked by the condition of the Dalish and her home as well. Everything had a neglected quality to it. As if Merrill had lost interest in everything but the mirror.

She likely he had.

Fenris pursed his lips in distaste.

She suspected he had seen mages in such a condition before inside Tevinter.

"Mummy!"

A little boy ran from behind the mirror, he could not be more than three or four.

He wrapped his chubby arms around Morrigan.

The witch's expression changed, she smiled gently.

"I have returned my treasure," she purred, "And I have found the answers we have sought for so long."

The boy squealed and clapped his hands in delight.

The Viscountess tried to hide her shock.

The boy…Morrigan's child, his dark hair, the impishness of his expression…

He…he looked just like Aedan!

The eyes were different of course; amber colored like his mother, and when she reached out with her magic she…she felt…

The sheer power in the boy was stifling, she nearly fainted.

Anders caught her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Solona nodded, breathlessly.

Morrigan turned to her with a frown.

"You should not have done that," she growled.

Solona gave the witch a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry."

The witch crossed her arms, a protective look upon her face.

Solona glared at her.

"What is he?"

A pleased look came to Morrigan's face.

"He is my son, and…far more."

She tussled the boy's hair, he giggled.

Morrigan watched him fondly.

"He represents freedom, an ancient power freed from the dark forces that tried to corrupt it. "

"Freedom," the Viscountess replied, "For whom?"

"Everyone," the witch replied.

"I have a dissney," the little boy crowed, "A dissney!"

Morrigan smiled.

"You do have a destiny my treasure," she smiled, "A grand one."

"Dissney, dissney!" the boy sang happily.

Anders expression changed, he had no doubt touched the boy's magic as well.

Magic flickered in the apostate's eyes.

Morrigan gently maneuvered her son behind her.

"Do not get any ideas," she warned.

Anders gave her a slightly offended look.

"I would never harm a child."

Morrigan sneered at him.

"But what about the thing inside you hmmm," she said, "And yes…I can sense that you are not alone in there. "

The witch gave him a knowing look.

"I have dealt with abominations before."

The apostate glared at her.

"I'm not an abomination, and Justice is no demon!"

Morrigan shook her head.

"What you will or will not do is uncertain. That remains to be seen, does it not?"

She moved to the mirror, gesturing for Solona to draw closer.

The Viscountess approached cautiously.

"What you are seeing is called an Eluvian," she said, "Tis very old magic, dating back to the earliest days of the elven kingdom."

Merrill bobbed her head excitedly.

"The Tevinters stole them from us, as they stole so much," her eyes turned sad, "To the shemlen mages they were simply a form of communication."

Morrigan grinned.

"My mother discovered over her many years that they could be used for far more."

Solona looked into the pale glass, she could sense power, but it seemed muted, blocked.

She turned to her fellow mages.

"What do you hope to do with this?"

Morrigan gave her a sly look.

My mother believed that the elves created an entire other world beyond our own. A world accessible only through the eluvians, a way travel far faster than anything we understand, passing from one mirror to the next."

The witch looked at her son, her expression thoughtful.

"Such a place is beyond even my mother's sight, tis my hope to lead my son there to shield him from Flemeth and her plans."

Solona nodded.

"I encountered your mother," she informed the witch, "Several years ago, she said she had plans."

Morrigan laughed.

"Of that I do not doubt," she replied, "But I shall not be a part of them, and nor shall be my son."

She leaned down and stroked the boy's face, he embraced her tightly.

"I will do anything to keep him safe," she murmured.

Her amber eyes fell on Solona and her extended belly.

"Your first?" she asked.

"They are yes."

Merrill's eyes lit up.

"They," she exclaimed, "You…you mean twins! Oh Lady Lona, you are so fortunate!"

The Viscountess ignored her, her eyes focused only on the witch.

Morrigan gave her a knowing look.

"You are concerned about them, tis understandable. What you have been up to now will change when they are born. They…they will change you."

The witch's expression turned sad again.

"I am no doting mother, but…nor am I Flemeth. My son will know that what I do to prepare him, is done out of love. That he is loved."

Solona's lip tightened.

"Does Aedan know?"

Again that wave of regret passed over the witch's features.

"He knows this is what I wanted, tis what I asked of him in exchange of keeping him safe from the Archdemon…"

Her voice trailed off.

"Had I been born a different person, we…we might have been more, had more, but that was not meant to be."

She straightened her back and held the Viscountess in the hardest of gazes.

"Will you aid me? Will you help me keep my son safe?"

"You will be helping my clan as well," Merrill chimed in, "the eluvian, if it can be unlocked…the secrets it can provide, will give the Dalish something we have not known in centuries! It will allow me to bring back…"

Merrill fell silent.

Morrigan snorted.

"The elf believes that two of her friends were trapped within the Eluvian," she told the Viscountess, "The darkspawn had claimed the mirror, and it took them both…"

Solona's eyes widened.

"The taint," she gasped, "It is part of the mirror!"

No!" Merrill said quickly, "Not any more, I…I purified it with blood magic, it was the only thing that I could do."

Fenris glared at the Dalish.

"Foolish little witch," he glowered.

Anders shook his head.

"Every time I hear her say things like that I realize just how lost she is."

The Dalish glared at him.

"This is for my people! I do not expect you to…"

"Enough!" Morrigan growled.

Everyone fell silent.

She turned to the Viscountess.

"The elf is not wrong; she claimed a shard of the original mirror and used her power to cleanse it. I would not risk my son's life if she had not succeeded."

"So why do you need me?" Solona asked.

"The mirror is blocked," Morrigan snorted, "Together the elf and I have come close to breaching whatever is holding the mirror closed. We simply do not have enough power.

Morrigan grinned at her.

"But with your aid, we shall."

The Viscountess looked at both Anders and Fenris, neither seemed eager about this plan.

She was not entirely eager about it herself.

She wanted to help Merrill, for no other reason to justify what she had given up. Aedan would no doubt what her to help Morrigan, but…

But…

Morrigan came up beside her.

"Your children will not be in danger," she promised, "I shall shield them. You have my word. My power added to yours."

She stared into the witch's amber colored eyes.

She saw no deception there.

The Viscountess touched her belly protectively.

Better to have a new ally than an enemy.

In Aedan's name…she would do what needed to be done.

She nodded.

Morrigan smiled gratefully.

"Then we can begin."

IOI

The next hour passed liked a dream, Solona used her magic to bolster Morrigan and Merrill's why Fenris stood watch.

Anders kept an eye on Morrigan's son, who seemed enraptured by the whole performance.

When they were ready, Morrigan began.

She spoke words that meant nothing to Solona, but she did not need to understand, only to give her power to help her friend's old love.

Merrill poured mana into the mirror chanting in the elven tongue.

Slowly the mirror began to glow.

The Viscountess felt the magic within the glass, felt it straining, like water behind a dam.

Water that strained for release.

The glow intensified, the air became thick with magic. The restraining wards that Morrigan had drawn on the floor prevented any wild magic from escaping the hovel.

Solona continued to add her power to the others, bolstering them in their work.

She could feel Anders reaching out, shielding her from the forces at play around them.

Fenris's markings glowed as magic intensified; he gritted his teeth in discomfort.

The glass continued to brighten, from deep within a shadow began to form.

Solona felt something reach out, trying to seize the power that they were wielding, trying perhaps to usurp their spell.

She would not let that happen.

Merrill's eyes were glowing with emerald light. She reached out as the shadow drew closer.

"Lyna? Tamlen? Is that you Lethallans?"

"Keep your distance!" Morrigan ordered.

Merrill did not she kept approaching.

"BACK DAMN YOU!"

The Dalish reached out for the glass.

Solona's eyes widened.

"MERILL DON'T!"

She did not listen.

She touched the glass.

Magic pulsed outward into the hovel.

The world turned white!


	17. Scream

**Chapter 17: Scream**

Ancient magic flooded Merrill's hovel. White light burned the eyes of all who stood before the mirror, and high pitched keening wail deafened all in earshot.

Solona gritted her teeth and tried to regain control. The Eluvian drank her magic, and what was worse she could feel a pull from the ancient elven glass, a pull that threatened to lift her off her feet like some hungry gale force wind.

Anders shield spell faltered its magic being drawn into the mirror, the restraint glyphs were holding, but even their magic was starting to dissolve in the face of such terrible power.

The Viscountess could not be sure if the others were all right, the last thing she had seen before the world turned white was Merrill being thrown back by the Eluvians pulse of power…

Now the mirrors strength had turned inward, seeking to devour them all!

She stopped feeding magic into the eluvian and switched to try and reinforcing the restraint spells. Her hair was yanked out of its tight bun, her cloak whipped in the magically summoned wind.

Her thoughts went to her babies, her poor innocent children. They had not asked for this, perhaps she should have listened to Sebastian's warnings.

The Viscountess felt her fear turn to fury.

She was not some scared waif of a mage. She was the Viscountess of Kirkwall! She had wrested power from her brother's hands, survived his dark schemes, and emerged stronger because of it.

She was not about to be defeated by some ancient pane of glass.

She let the magic bring her closer to the mirror, just close enough so that she could touch the restraining glyphs on the floor.

She brought down her foot hard on the glyphs outer edge, pouring her full might into it.

The glyph flared with blue light!

The world returned around them, white light still poured out of the mirror, but at least now she could see. Merrill lay in a tangle in the corner likely unconscious. She spotted Morrigan, her eyes filled with golden light as she tried to stabilize the spell that the Dalish had interrupted.

To her left Justice roared. The spirit had taken charge of Anders again, contributing its own powers to the mage that it called friend. Hawke had always described justice coming out of Anders as a blind frenzy, but it seemed that the spirit recognized what needed to be done.

Solona felt a strong hand grasping her arm; she had not even realized it was there until that moment.

Fenris had a death grip on her; he was making sure that the hungry mirror would not drag her into its dark depths.

The winds all but ceased.

Solona pushed the eluvian's power back. Her eyes flared with blue light, a strange aqua colored hue surrounded her body.

The witch glanced her way, a look of disbelief on her face.

"How are you doing this?" she heard Morrigan shout, "Tis…tis impossible!"

The Viscountess ignored her; she focused all her strength on pushing the power back into the eluvian.

_For my city, for my family, for my children…!_

Solona thrust her hand forward.

_**THIS…IS…DONE!**_

Magic burst from the Viscountess's fingertips, directed at the mirror, like a firestorm it consumed the magic, driving it like a flood before, it, pushing it all back into the world from whence it came…

…Pushing it all back into the Eluvian.

Solona heard a scream fill the air, it sounded so pained she barely recognized it.

She barely acknowledged that it had come from her own throat.

Her magic sealed the rift in the mirror's surface.

The Eluvian fell silent.

The Viscountess gasped and nearly fell over, Fenris was there holding her up.

"I have you," he murmured, "You are safe."

She managed a wan smile. She felt so bone weary, exhausted…

_That was good to know._

Morrigan rose from the floor. The witch struggled to separate herself from her tangled robes.

She looked at Solona.

"How did you do that?" the witch gasped, "No…no mage should have been able to…"

"Mum?"

Her son's voice drew her back from her shock; Morrigan looked around the hovel, searching for the boy.

When she found him, her heart nearly broke.

Her son stood calmly in the center of the room looking out over them all…

The boy was inside the Eluvian, just a reflection to them now.

"NOOOOO!"

Morrigan wailed as she tried to reopen the mirror with her spells. She pushed her hand against the gray glass, trying to pull her son back into their world.

The boy did not seem troubled; he looked around at the space around him.

"It is pretty here Mum," the boy grinned, "Are you coming to?"

Morrigan whirled on Solona, barely able to stand after what she had done.

"Help me reopen the mirror," she cried, "I…I can't leave…"

The boy turned away from them unafraid.

"Ooh, what is that," he cooed and began to toddle away.

"Stay!" Morrigan ordered, "My treasure, do not leave! I shall join you shortly! I shall…"

The boy must not have heard her.

He faded from the glass.

The Eluvian fell silent once more.

The witch of the wild said nothing; she just stood there, staring at the vacant mirror in shock. Her amber eyes were wide with terror and disbelief.

Solona was worried. She could only imagine what was going through the witch's mind right now.

"Morrigan…I…"

The witch shrieked as she transformed, an angry crow flew past the Viscountess and out through a hole in Merrill's hovel. The caws of the bird sounded as desperate as they were furious.

The Viscountess shook her head.

Poor Morrigan.

Anders was at her side, checking her over with his magic. She reached inside herself as well, using her power to see if any harm had befallen her babies. They seemed fine, which brought a sigh of relief to her lips.

Merrill groaned weakly, she tried to roll over but it was no use.

The Viscountess glared at the Dalish.

What was she thinking?! She could have got them all killed or pulled into that mirror to Maker knows where.

That was when she noticed something, that they all noticed something.

Someone else was in the room, someone who had not been there before, lying near where Merrill had fallen.

Fenris left the Viscountess to lean against the wall, his sword drawn he went to check on this new arrival.

Anders also came to mysterious figure's side, Justice having retreated back inside his body.

The sight that greeted them was a surprising one…

It was an elf, an elven girl to be exact, clad in the summer armor of a Dalish hunter. The tattoos on her forehead also hinted at her origin. The girl's pale skin was soaked with sweat; her short chestnut brown hair was plastered against her skin.

Anders touched her arm, the girl whimpered curling into a fetal ball, she murmured nonsense her eyes squeezed shut.

The apostate cast a sleep spell; the girl relaxes and slumped to the floor. He reached out with his magic, searching for any injury but found none, not any physical injury anyway.

Merrill finally regained consciousness; she blinked her large green eyes. They fell on the girl lying at Anders feet.

The Dalish woman giggled.

"I did it," she murmured, "I…I truly did it!"

Solona shook head.

Just what had Merrill done?

She was not sure she truly wanted to know.

IOI

Solona and Fenris returned to the Viscount's Keep. Anders had agreed to stay behind, to keep an eye on Merrill and see what could be done for the Dalish woman who it had seemed to have emerged from the mirror.

Merrill, when she was not giggling with joy, said the girl's name was Lyna, and that she had been a member of Merrill's clan. The Viscountess would have to speak with Keeper Marethari about that, see what she knew, and how the elven huntress had ended up inside the mirror…or wherever she had come from.

Solona tried not to think about Morrigan and her son. The witch had flown off without even a word to them; she hoped that where ever Morrigan went she would find some way to help her child.

Solona's hand once against drifted to her own belly, and the two new lives she carried within.

If she had been in Morrigan's place, she might have fled in a panic as well.

The day was starting to fade as the approached the keep, a small crowd had gathered at the foot of steps; at first the Viscountess suspected that she might have a small protest going on, it happened occasionally since she had reclaimed the throne.

That is when she noticed Aveline and Seneschal Bran among them.

She increased the speed of her steps.

She strode right up to the guard captain.

"What has happened?" Solona demanded.

Bran gave a visible sigh of relief. Several other nobles and servants tried to clamor closer to the Viscountess, but the guard kept them back.

Aveline turned. She had a worried look on her face.

"Hawke and the Lord Consort went to find you," she said, "one of my guards said you had gone to the Alienage."

"I'm finished there," Solona said dismissively, "What is going on Aveline?"

The armored woman looked up at the keep and sighed.

"There has been a…incident in the dungeons."

Solona's eyes narrowed.

"Did Daylen escape?"

"No Your Excellency," Aveline replied, "But…well…you should probably come and see for yourself. I cleared the keep to make sure that we have no more surprises waiting inside."

"You are not going in there alone," Fenris said coolly. He spotted several of Solona's Tevinter guards as well; they took up defensive positions around her.

Solona stared up at the keep. Whatever had happened, it had clearly rattled Aveline a great deal.

The Viscountess intended to see it dealt with. After what she had seen in the Alienage, she would not let her fear of her brother block her from doing what needed to be done.

If Daylen was up to something she would see it dealt with now.

She made her way up the steps to the keep, her guard surrounding her, defending her every step.

Aveline told her what she knew…

IOI

It had apparently begun at shift change. Aveline had been in her office filling out reports when the alarm in the dungeons had rang. She leapt to her feet and headed down, gathering as many of her guards as she could.

They encountered one of the guards assigned to watch Death's Hand cell, the man had been fleeing in terror, his eyes wide with fear.

It did not take Aveline long to get the truth out of him.

The boy had apparently taken some money from members of the dissident movement here in Kirkwall, his Father a local businessman had suffered some major losses lately and needed the coin.

_What did the dissidents want? _Solona had asked.

_Had they tried to free her brother or kill him?_

Aveline sighed.

The dissidents had had another plan entirely.

Apparently they were survivors of the Children of Eternity, and according to the guard they had bribed tried to save Daylen Amell's soul from the dark forces that he had allied with…

Four of them had entered Death's Hand cell and pushed him to the ground.

They had intended to remove his demonic hand.

The young guard described how the disgraced noble had wailed when he realized what they were planning to do. For him, it must have felt like he was back in that cave on the wounded coast again, under the mercies of Marlowe Dumar and the Red Iron.

Solona could only imagine how horrifying that must have been for her brother. She might not have had much sympathy for Daylen these days, but she understood what such fear and terror must have felt like.

Death's Hand had thought this another visitor, and had allowed the young guard to bind him as they had for the last few months.

He had been easy prey for the Children of Eternity.

When they had had Daylen down one of them brought his sword down on Daylen's wrist, severing the black claws neatly from his arm.

The results had not been what the Children of Eternity had expected.

Shadows had exploded from the hand, whatever they touched melted, including the people in the cell.

The guard had just had enough presence of mind to lock the cell door.

Death's Hand had been wailing like a fade demon at that point, a scream somewhere between agony and ecstasy. The shadows that emerged from his claws had no effect on him what so ever…

At least…

…At first…

The four men in his cell with him died badly, their armor melted their bodies were drained of all life, and turned to ash.

The claws reattached themselves to Daylen's wrist. The dark magic swirled as it ate away at the cloth of his shirt.

That is when the young guard had run for his life.

Solona sighed.

She suspected this must have been some enchantment that Neria had placed on the gift she had given her brother, something to prevent anyone from maiming him in the same way again, or some dark surprise for his enemies.

Solona hated to admit it, but she had thought of trying to have her brother's claws removed, hoping that if the hand was affecting his mind, that he might get better if it was indeed removed.

She was now glad that she had not attempted that act of cold mercy.

She made her way down the steps to the dungeon, no guards stood watch at their posts. Her own men took up those positions.

After this, only her Tevinters would be trusted to watch her brother, provided he had not escaped in the panic of course.

She stood before Daylen's cell, the door was locked, and no noise emerged from within.

The Viscountess mustered her courage; she had not spoken to her brother since she had sentenced him to life down here.

Now, she was about to face him again.

"Brother?" she called out.

No answer.

"Brother can you hear me?"

Icy laughter filled the darkened corridor.

Even the Tevinters, all hardened from battle shivered at that sound.

It was not the laughter of a sane man.

"Back away from the door Your Lordship," Aveline warned him, "Or I will cut you down where you stand."

The laughter lessened.

"As you wish Guard Captain," Death's Hand chuckled, "It…it seems my sister has been a little naughty, sending these men to cripple me."

Solona stepped forward.

"I had nothing to do with this attack Daylen."

She heard her brother snort loudly.

"You…you expect me to believe **that**? You sought to see me maimed again, to show your allies just how weak I have become.

She heard Daylen grunt as he hit the back wall.

Aveline opened the little window in the top of the cell door.

She gasped at what she saw there.

She stepped away and let Solona take a look.

Daylen was standing against the back wall, a wild look in his eyes, his long black hair hung in a dirty mass. His clothes had become very ragged over the last few months.

The cell was filled with the smell of burnt flesh and ash. The remains of his attackers were mostly dust and bones on the floor.

As for Death's Hand himself, he stood before them a changed man physically anyway.

His clawed hand seemed undamaged, but the arm itself, had been changed. Oily looking black…scales, looking almost like armor plates ran up his right arm and shoulder, disappearing under his ruined shirt, small spines were visible at the joints, spines that seemed to glisten in the low light of the cell.

Daylen was grinning at her his skin pale and tight against his skull.

Death's Hand no longer looked like her little brother…

He had become the stuff of nightmares.

He held up his right arm so she could get a better look.

"Behold sister," he crowed, "See…do you see what your plans have done to me?"

She was grateful he could not see that she was pregnant, if he noticed that, after what he endured, she could not be sure if he would not fling himself against the cell door.

"You have my word as an Amell that I knew nothing of this attack brother," she repeated, "You are my prisoner and should be treated with the respect that deserves."

Daylen gave her a cruel smile.

"There is no need to lie to me Lona," he purred, "It pleases me to see that you are adopting more…proactive tactics in dealing with your enemies."

His smile widened.

"It pleases me greatly. It shows me that you are perhaps truly our father's daughter! Tell your allies any lie you wish, but there is no reason to lie to me. I admire you for your ruthlessness."

He sat down on the floor of his cell, he seemed relaxed and pleased.

"This…this trash will need to be removed from my cell," he said authoratively, "We would not want people to think you are torturing people down here after all."

Solona shook her head, and began to walk away, as always she felt dirty after speaking with her little brother.

She looked at Aveline.

"I want to know who was behind this attack," she whispered, "If the Children of Eternity are back I need to know who is funding them and where they are."

Solona's eyes turned cold.

This attack was more than simply an affront to her power. It had brought about an even greater threat than ever before.

"Good bye my sister,"Daylen called out to her, "You do not need to worry about me, oh no. Thanks to your attackers, I'm now stronger than ever."

The Viscountess did not respond.

"Did you hear me sister," Death's Hand ranted, "You have made me stronger than ever!"

Aveline closed the door behind them, but still Daylen's cackling filled Solona's ears.

Death's Hand was stronger than ever.

She had heard him quite well.


	18. Preparations

**Chapter 18: Preparations**

The next several days passed quickly at the Viscount's Keep.

Solona was kept busy with the preparations for the Orlesian/Fereldan visit. Plans needed to be made to keep both delegations not only happy, but away from each other's throats. The Viscountess trusted Serene with much of this, being a part of the empire and game gave the elf an interesting insight on the workings of Orlais. Ser Stark and Aveline helped her with the Ferelden portion; Gray had for a time served in Alistair's court and knew the players who would likely be most directly involved in this meeting.

Solona was grateful for these advisors. She had no desire to anger either of their neighbors, especially when she had so many enemies already swirling around her.

Varric and Hawke had taken up searching for Morrigan, but the witch of the wilds left no trace of her comings and goings since fleeing the Alienage. The Viscountess suspected that the witch would likely harbor a grudge with Merrill and anyone else who had aided her in the Alienage spell…

She hoped to find Morrigan before the witch did something they would all regret.

As for the mirror itself, Solona had had it moved out of the Alienage and into a safe room within the keep. Merrill had protested furiously, snarling in that polite voice of hers. The Viscountess promised not to keep the mirror, but insisted that if Merrill was to keep working on it that she do it in a much more secure location than her hovel.

The restraint spells had done much to dampen the magic that had escaped when Merrill freed her friend from its embrace, but it had left a mark…

…A mark that had been detected by the Templars.

They searched the Alienage but came up with nothing, both the mirror and its Dalish guardian hidden safely within the lower levels of the Viscount's Keep.

It likely would have angered Meredith greatly to know that the Viscountess had decided to protect the mirror, but considering what she had seen and felt when she touched the ancient artifact with her magic…

She was leaving nothing to chance. The Jackal likely would have had the mirror smashed. For Merrill's sake, Solona would see it kept safe.

As for the elf girl, Merrill's friend Lyna, she continued to drift in and out of consciousness. She remained in Merrill's home for the time being, Anders visiting often, trying to restore her to health. One of the few times she had awakened she had panicked and nearly throttled the healer, and had only stopped when she saw her clan mate.

Merrill's presence had soothed the girl almost immediately, and allowed Anders to escape with only a few scratches.

The Viscountess found herself wondering if the girl should be taken back to her clan. Keeper Marethari would likely be able to help the girl more than Merrill ever could.

She asked Cousin Garrett to go to the Dalish, and seek the Keeper's counsel on the matter.

She would have gone herself, but alas, her days of moving quickly and easily were behind her…

The midwives and healers had examined her, they advised her to stay off her feet as much as possible, the fact that she would soon give birth to the twins made that necessary. They all suggested bed rest, which to Solona was almost the worst kind of torture.

She had always been an extremely active woman, and the thought of simply lying in bed while her servants and advisors brought her reports was not very…encouraging.

Sebastian advised her to think of the welfare of their children, if the healers felt that her remaining in bed would help her pregnancy she had to accept it.

The Viscountess yielded to her husband on this point. Their family had to come first, regardless of how she felt. Varric, Cousin Garrett, Bethany, and the rest of her family were more than capable of handling the hands on parts of ruling Kirkwall, at least until her children were born.

Being forced to remain in the Keep gave Solona much time to work on things she had been putting off.

Death's Hand and his followers had sadly just moved to the top of that list.

Neria had fallen silent again, the attack on the trade post had rattled the nobility, when the elf reared her head again Solona expected it to be something equally as dramatic.

She was still not sure how the elf had done it. How had she killed the officers without leaving a mark on them? It was a mystery she had to explore, along with what had happened when those fanatics had attacked her little brother.

_Brother…what have you done to yourself?_

She was still not entirely sure **what** had happened to Daylen. The guards had been advised to be extra careful around him until they understood the extent of the changes his assault had caused.

Several days after the attack, Solona had had a strong sleeping draught placed in her brother's food; it would send him into a dreamless sleep for about ten hours. Once he had succumbed she had had Aveline, Serene, and Anders down there to investigate what the red witch's magic had done to her brother. The reports they brought back were not very pleasing.

Daylen's entire right arm, along with part of his shoulder and portions of his collar bone, were now covered by the black oily plates. Anders had tried to break a piece off to examine it but was unable to do so. Whatever foul magic had formed them they were clearly not coming off. They also proved resist to heat, cold, and electricity. Aveline had managed to scratch one, but only be striking it with an old dragonbone dagger.

The substance was hard, likely as tough as dragon scales.

They were extremely lucky that the plates had not covered Daylen's entire body, had they done that…he would have been extremely difficult to contain, and even more difficult to kill.

The Viscountess was still not ready to go that far, but she feared the decision may become necessary if things progressed as the continued to.

Several of the plates also seemed to secrete a very nasty venom. Anders had been able to take a sample and determined it to be a type of demonic poison. The mage was able to come up with an antidote, and a supply had been delivered to the keep.

Daylen likely suspected he had been examined while he had been unconscious, but continued to say nothing. He seemed pleased with his transformation. Solona of course had replaced all the guards who had been watching him with her Tevinters. Farris and his men had seen much in their service and would not be intimidated by her dear brother's…changes.

Surprisingly Daylen remained the model prisoner. He obeyed his guards' orders without complaint, and had not used his transformation to try to escape, not yet anyway.

Leandra continued to visit with him, and seemed unafraid of what Death's Hand had become. As always he treated her with all the respect one would expect a noble to treat a lady of her stature. Still the Viscountess ordered extreme vigilance.

Death's Hand would not catch her by surprise again.

IOI

So, things in the keep began to settle back into a routine. Solona read reports and visited with her family when the quiet of her quarters became too stifling for her to remain.

She read reports on what had been prepared for the Orlesians and Fereldans. What news had come out of the merchant's guild, and how they were responding to the recent trade summit, and, on a more pleasant note, saw to the arrangement of the new nursery for her children.

This was the one preparation that Solona did not mind. She welcomed the twins coming, and did her best to try to be ready for the changes in both her and Sebastian's lives.

Though…who was ever ready for such changes?

Solona did not know.

IOI

Sebastian made his way down the street of Hightown, two Tevinter bodyguards in tow. He had been visiting with Elthina; the Grand Cleric remained one of his most trusted counselors despite him leaving his life as a brother behind.

Elthina was always willing to listen to him when he felt troubled, in either mind or soul.

He had no regrets about leaving the Chantry. He had chosen a life with Lona, and to start a family with her. He still worried about his worthiness sometimes. It was not an easy thing to forget the past.

The Lord Consort smiled slightly.

Lona would say he was being ridiculous, what he had done during his misspent youth was in the past. He was not only a good man, but a good husband as well…

And soon…Maker willing, a good father as well…

At least…he hoped he would be.

"You are worse than My Aedan's chantry twit."

The cold voice snapped him out of his musing, forcing him to jump, his guards took up position before him.

Morrigan sat on one of the stone benches, her staff resting in her lap. She seemed pleased at herself for having surprised him.

Sebastian shook his head.

He could have sworn the witch had not been there a few minutes ago.

"Damn it woman," he hissed, "Are you trying to get yourself killed, sneaking up on people like that?"

The witch chuckled.

"Better than you have tried little man, but scaring you was the last thought on my mind."

She rose from the bench, a cruel smile on her face.

"I wish an audience with your wife," she purred, "We have…things to discuss before I leave your fair city."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed.

"Whatever you have to say to my wife, you can say to me."

Morrigan smirked, she probably could see the fear in his eyes, fear that she sought retribution.

She surprised him with her next few words.

"Tis very touching how you seek to protect her, but such bravado is quite unnecessary. I mean your woman no harm."

Morrigan let her hood fall away, her expression turned more serious.

"If you must listen in on what I have to say, feel free to do so. I merely wish to ask a question, once that is done, I shall be on my way."

Sebastian gave her a suspicious look, a lifetime of chantry dogma swimming through his mind.

Apostates were dangerous…

And yet, that had not stopped him from marrying one had it?

He sighed; the words that had passed between him and Brother Alec came back to the forefront.

Solona had hid her magic from him, but that had been for her protection. She had done nothing to threaten either him, not the people that served her.

She has not changed, Alec had told him, she is the same woman you stood before the Maker and pledged to spend your life with.

Magic does not change that…not unless you decide it does.

Sebastian shook his head.

He had chosen his wife. He had chosen to trust her.

He would trust in her again.

"If you break your word sorceress," he said with a lethal purr, "You will regret it."

Morrigan sniffed.

"I have given you my promise," she shrugged, "If there is any treachery, it shall not come from me."

She fell in line with Sebastian, his guards watching her carefully.

The witch smirked.

"So we are all friends again," she cooed, "How lovely."

Sebastian said nothing.

He had faith in his wife.

He did not have to trust Morrigan.

He only had to trust her.

IOI

Solona received Morrigan in her apartments. More Tevinter guards stood watch as the witch was led before the Viscountess.

Solona had been sitting up in bed, going over the last of the day's reports.

She shifted when she saw the witch enter, seeking to get comfortable, and finding no position ideal.

Morrigan smiled slightly.

"I remember those days well," she said softly, "No simple movement can give you succor, something always aches and no position feels quite right."

She shook her head.

"I found being with child extremely tedious."

Solona's expression turned sad.

"Morrigan, your son…I…words do not express…"

The witch stopped her with a raised hand.

"Your pity is not necessary, though…your concern is appreciated," she said with a sigh, "My son is beyond my reach for the moment, but he is also beyond the reach of Flemeth, which is what I sought from the start."

"You believe he is safe then?" Solona inquired, "Where ever he is?"

"My son is stronger than you might expect," Morrigan replied, "I shall reach him; it is only a matter of time."

"You need access to the Eluvian?"

The witch snorted at the very mention of it.

"An Eluvian yes, that Eluvian no," she said, "The Dalish fool's meddling in things she does not understand has made it too unpredictable. Fortunately, there is more than one such mirror in Thedas. I shall find another. Once I have learned more, I shall go to join my son."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed in anger.

"Warn the Dalish fool to stay out of my way. I will not openly seek retribution, but if she crosses my path again…she will find that meeting most unfortunate."

The Viscountess suppressed a sigh. Morrigan was not planning to harm Merrill.

Another problem averted.

"So…you are leaving?" Solona asked.

Yes."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," the witch replied, "Though I seriously doubt it will be that easy."

Morrigan began to pace, her amber eyes narrowed and darkened.

"Which brings me to the reason I have returned, I have a question for you Solona of Kirkwall, one that only you can answer, and I would appreciate your total honesty."

The Viscountess gave her a surprised look.

"You came here for that?"

Morrigan chuckled.

"I knew a Qunari once that journeyed the length of Ferelden and Tevinter once to answer a question, my journey tonight was not quite as long, but curiosity demanded that I make it."

"I will answer if I can," Solona promised.

The witch nodded.

"Then my question is this, back in the elf's hovel, how did you bend the Eluvian's magic to your will?"

"What do you mean?"

Morrigan sighed.

"The magic of the mirror was about to overwhelm us. I pushed back with all of my strength, but could do nothing to stop it. I could not push it back, or even reinforce the restraint glyphs, but…you…you did both… I must know how?"

"I…I'm not sure," the Viscountess admitted, "My master always said I had great power, perhaps the greatest he had ever seen…"

"He was not lying in that," the witch said dryly.

"When…when I felt the mirror starting to overwhelm us…I…I got angry, I drew on that strength and used it to push the magic back. It was not easy but I did it."

Morrigan paused, her finger tapping lightly on her lips, lost in thought.

"Interesting," she murmured.

Solona suspected that the witch was toying with her.

"I'm certain you could have done it you tried harder. Your Mother probably could have."

AT the mention of Flemeth the witch's expression turned colder.

"My mother would not have tried, for all her bravado Flemeth knows her limits."

She gave the Viscountess a worried look.

"Had Flemeth seen what I had that night, you likely would not have survived your next meeting with her. My Mother does not suffer rivals for long."

Morrigan looked right at Sebastian.

"Guard this woman well," she said, "Flemeth is a jealous sort, if she becomes aware of what your wife is…"

"What am I?" Solona demanded.

Morrigan turned to her, a sad smile on her face.

"Something **more**…something that perhaps should not have been, not at this place and time anyway. Had you been in Ferelden during the Blight, your power would have drawn many to you. Who knows, you might have been the one to slay the Archdemon that day on Fort Drakon."

Morrigan's expression turned thoughtful.

"Darkness is rising Solona of Kirkwall. The world beyond your borders in shifting towards an abyss, Change is coming, change that I had hoped to protect my son from, so that he would have time to prepare.

"You will need to be clever to survive what is to come. Watch over your family, and prepare them for what is coming."

Solona snorted.

"Your Mother told me something similar years ago."

Morrigan turned with surprise.

"She had smuggled herself out of Ferelden, a part of herself anyway," The Viscountess warned.

The witch let out a tired sigh.

"I told my Aedan that she would not be dead for long, for now I have denied her my son, I shall take comfort in that small victory.

The witch went and opened the window; she smiled as the cool night air kissed her face.

"Farewell Solona of Kirkwall," she purred, "May we never meet again."

"Wait!" Solona said.

The witch paused.

"The Fereldans are coming here, Aedan may be among them."

Morrigan tensed at the mention of her old lover.

"What should I tell him about you?"

The witch shook her head.

"Flemeth told me once that the sweetest fruit was the forbidden. Do not follow me, I told my Aedan that, but I know he will not listen, especially if he hears that I was here."

She turned to face Solona.

"Remind him of the promise he made back in Redcliffe. If he asks after my son, tell him the boy is safe enough. Though I doubt he will listen…"

Morrigan laughed lightly.

"I will know when he draws near; if he has decided to seek out the forbidden…we shall speak again."

Morrigan turned away from them again.

"If…if he asks. Tell…him…tell my Aedan, that I am sorry."

There was a flash of light. A sleek black raven launched itself from the Viscountess's window. It flapped its wings several times before fleeing into the moonless night, and like that it was over…

Morrigan was gone.


	19. Guests

**Chapter 19: Guests**

It was just before dawn when the shadow moved lithely across the rooftops of Hightown. The dim light from the streets below did nothing to illuminate the lone figure as it moved with purpose towards its intended destination.

Anger was held in check. The need for violence held tightly in check. If anything went wrong here it would not be the shadows fault.

_Struggle was an illusion._

The shadow finally reached its destination, a small house on the outskirts of Hightown, just a mere jump from the steps that lead to Lowtown and the darker part of Kirkwall.

The shadow did not hesitate.

It knew its mission, and was determined to see it done, no matter the cost.

If there was any resistance to carrying out its given orders it showed none.

_There was nothing to struggle against…_

_Struggle was, after all an illusion._

The shadow slipped inside.

IOI

Ser Graydon Stark, stretched out on his bed, knew immediately that he was no longer alone.

He did not move. He listened, something was amiss, but what…he did not know.

Years of combat training and experience had honed his instincts sharper than any blade he carried. A knight did not rise up through the ranks of Maric's Shield by being foolish. Teyrn Loghain did not knight foolish men, he had recruited only the strong…those that trusted their instincts.

Those instincts had saved his life more than once.

He opened a single eye, probing the darkness for any sign of trouble, any sign of intruders…

He saw none, but that did not change the fact that he knew someone was there. Brunt his loyal warhound would be little help here. The dog was no doubt sound asleep down stairs, dreaming beside the dying fire, but that was alright too…he knew he was not alone, and knew that he was up to dealing with it.

The habits of a soldier died hard.

Another habit he had learned during his soldiering day was never be too far away from a weapon…

That rule had also saved his life a time or two.

His hand drifted down towards the blade at his bedside when the shadow leapt from its place of hiding, it landed hard straddling the knight. He gasped from the sudden weight.

A dagger came to rest on his throat; his hand fell away from the knife.

Gray did not struggle, if he moved his…_visitor _would likely cut his throat down to the neck bone.

_What a shame __**that **__would be, it would ruin a perfectly good set of sheets._

He glanced up into the intruder's amber eyes, once again her face was painted, a mix of soft dark colored flesh, and hard red. He could hear her breath hissing between her teeth, her long silky black hair tumbling down to her ample chest.

Despite the danger he was in, he could not prevent the smile from blossoming on his face.

_She was okay. She was __**alive! **_

"Praise the Maker," he murmured, "I've missed you."

His words took her by surprise, her golden eyes widened for a second, and then returned to normal.

Her scowl never faltered from her face.

"Parshaara!" she hissed, "You are a foolish basra Graydon Stark, extremely foolish!"

He could feel the pressure of her blade against his neck, but he was not afraid.

_She would not hurt him. He knew her too well._

"Hello Tallis," he said warmly, "I've been looking for you."

Tallis, once the pirate queen Isabela, now a loyal soldier of the Qunari, an investigator among the Qun.

The Qunari woman snorted.

"Did you think **we** were not aware?" she asked, "You have been stumbling around like some drunken Dathrasi! Did you think that you escaped **our** notice? Did you believe we would want you meddling in our affairs?"

Gray chuckled.

That only seemed to annoy the Qunari woman more.

"Is this a joke to you?"

"No," he replied, "Maybe you should pinch me, just to be certain…"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Pinch you? Why?"

The knight chuckled.

"I've often wondered what it would be like wake up and find you on top of me."

Tallis glared at him.

Once upon a time, when she had been known as Isabela she might have been amused by his words, might have even considered it an invitation to a sinfully nice evening.

Tallis no longer thought like that. She was of the Qun now.

That was all that mattered.

"Parshaara," she snarled, "I'm trying to save your life Gray, and all you can do is make…make…" Tallis's words failed her.

Gray smiled.

He found his thoughts drifting back to the day they had first met. He, Tallis, and Solona back then he had ridden with the Qunari woman bound in front of him. At the time, that had not distracted him, she was nothing but a godless heathen, praising her brutal Qun for torturing her into submission.

In the months that they had travelled together…all that had changed.

They…had changed.

Now…he remembered the warmth of her skin, the smell of her hair that gentle way should could almost smile when he said something amusing…

He…he knew it was foolish, that the feelings that he had for her would likely only lead to more pain, but he did not care.

She was alive, that was all that mattered to him.

He tried to control his breathing, to…stop his feelings of arousal. Feeling such things with a knife at his throat did not seem wise, but…he could not help it. He was still a man after all, and Tallis was an extremely beautiful woman, angry yes, but that did not take away from her beauty. She was breathing heavily; the exertion of her journey here had dampened her skin with sweat.

He could think of better ways that they could be exerting themselves, not that he mentioned it to her, he preferred not to have this fiery beautiful woman slit his throat.

He almost chuckled again.

_This…__**this **__really should not be turning me on._

Had she not been armed, he might have not been able to control himself, he might have taken her into his arms and not wanted to let go.

He found himself staring at her cruel mouth, imagining what it would be like to touch it, to kiss it. If he could have disarmed her he would have, but then he likely would have thrown her down on the bed, tore off her armor, and made love to her.

The look in her eyes was savage, but he could see something else there as well…concern, and perhaps a bit of fear.

"Gray," she murmured, "Please if you value your life at all…forget about me."

The pain in her voice shocked him.

"I can't be worried about a friend?" he asked, "Someone who I have fought and bled beside?"

Tallis sighed.

"The Arishok does not approve of my…dealings with you and Solona. He believes that it has distracted me from my missions. The Qunari still hunt for what is lost. We…we are still denied Par Vollen until it is retrieved."

The Qunari shook her head.

"What I learned during our time travelling, it is not the will of the Qun. The Qun offers knowledge and certainty."

She shook her head.

"It is my place to solve, my role to serve the will of the Qun. If you value my safety, do not pursue me any longer. Know that this is my choice."

"It was a choice that was forced on you," he reminded her.

"I have submitted to the will of the Qun," she replied, "I have found certainty."

Her golden eyes burned into his.

"Would you deny me that?"

Gray almost cursed.

"I don't mean to question your beliefs Tallis, but I can't help but wonder that you might be happier outside of the Qun. You said it yourself, the Arishok could kill you if he believed that were infected by your time travelling with us."

Gray's eyes turned stormy.

"Solona is your friend Tallis. She cares about you. I…I care about you. I do not wish to see you harmed."

For a moment, that little smile played across her face, but was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

"I don't want to die," she murmured, "I wish to live by the Qun. I cannot do that as long as you are pursuing me."

The blade came away from his throat; her finger traced a lazy line down his jaw, down his throat and across his bare chest.

The knight groaned with pleasure.

"You said you care about me," She purred, "If that is true than do one thing for me."

"Anything," he growled passionately.

She leaned in and kissed him chastely on the lips. She pulled back, with sorrow in her eyes.

"Forget you ever knew me."

She sprang from the bed and vanished out the window.

He leapt to his feet and tried to follow, but by the time he reached the window she had vanished, across the roof tops or down into the street he could not say.

His fingers brushed his lips; the memory of the feather light kiss still lingered there. The sweet taste of her lips haunted him.

Gray sighed and turned away.

_Forget you ever knew me._

Did she not realize that it was not that easy?

With an angry snort Graydon Stark made for his water basin. There would be no more sleep again tonight.

The sky in the east was already beginning to brighten.

The knight sighed.

Today the Orlesians and Fereldans would come for their summit. Ships from both nations had been sighted last night on the horizon. Sebastian and the elven bard were being trusted to meet with the empress's party and bring her to the keep.

It was his and Hawke's duty to see to the needs of King Alistair and his party.

Gray shook his head.

Would King Alistair recognize him? It had been more than a year since he had left Denerim on the King's business, and in that year he had decided not to return, to find a new life for himself far from his home.

A home too filled with ghosts for him to ever be comfortable there again.

His family, Cauthrien, the Teyrn, they were all gone now.

He knew how those who served on Solona's court saw him, he wore his Ferelden armor proudly, his cloak of fur proudly. He was the savage among the nobility, the barbarian in the royal court.

It was an opinion that he did not deny. In fact, it suited him just fine.

Perhaps that was why he had felt so drawn to Tallis. They were both barbarians here. His initial attraction to Solona had grown into friendship and respect for the beautiful noble mage.

He was her soldier, her advisor, and, he hoped, her friend.

What he felt for Tallis was more…more…

Maker, words failed him in describing what he felt for her.

There was lust, he could not deny that, but…there was intense desire as well…desire…

…and need.

_Forget you ever knew me._

He touched the water basin; its enchantment summoned hot water. He splashed water on his face, trying to wash away the last of his troubling thoughts about the woman from his mind.

He was to forget about her.

It would be easier said than done.

IOI

The arrival of the Empress of Orlais and the King of Ferelden had to be handled very delicately.

Even almost thirty years after Ferelden gained its independence there were still many harsh feelings on both sides. Kirkwall needed to maintain its neutrality.

The Viscountess insisted on it.

On the docks awaiting the Orlesians, Varric, Sebastian, and Serene stood patiently as the empress's party prepared to disembark from their ship.

Of the three welcoming her imperial majesty, Varric Tethras felt the most uncomfortable. He might have been Hand of the Viscountess, but he had never had much luck in dealing with pampered nobles.

He was counting on Ruby and Lord Choirboy to keep him from screwing this up.

Serene was dressed in her Orlesian clothes, the colored jacket with bells, an Orlesian mask hid much of her pretty face, her red eyes blazed beneath the deep maroon colored mask.

It is best that her Radiance see me for what I am Varric, Serene had informed him. The Empress would expect a ruler such as Solona to have at least one bard in her employ.

We are a long way from the game, Sebastian had said.

Serene had twittered at that, an amused smile on her lips.

Tell that to the empress, she suggested.

Empress Celene sat calmly and regally in the sloop that carried her from her warship, no less than six chevaliers travelled with her, along with a powerfully built young man in armor at her back, at her side but seated lower were two elven handmaidens.

Sebastian clad in his freshly polished Starkhaven armor, smiled as sloop made it ashore. One of the chevaliers assisted the empress to her feet and onto the shore.

Clad in a gown of deep purple Celene looked every bit the Empress that she was. She had ascended to the Orlesian throne at sixteen, and now as she approached her twenty-ninth name day, she still had the spryness of a young woman. Her eyes however showed the weight of her crown. Her long blond hair styled in the fashion most popular in the empire right now…

Or perhaps it was the style that the empress preferred, and the empire only sought to mimic her…

Either could be a possibility.

The empress smiled slightly at the banner of House Amell, the family crest in white on a sky blue background, protected on each side by two sleek white female lions.

Once the one on the left had been a black male, but that had changed with the fall of Death's Hand.

Celene's own banner man raised the banner of her own house, the strong golden lion of the Valmont family from which she was born.

Her knights sought to block her view of the dock, lest it offend her delicate sensibilities.

Sebastian stepped forward and bowed gallantly to the empress.

"Your Imperial Majesty," he said warmly, "I am Sebastian Vael, Lord Consort of Kirkwall, and husband of Viscountess Solona Amell. In her name I bid you welcome to the City of Kirkwall."

Celene nodded respectfully.

She glanced around at the dock.

"I was told that your wife sacked this city when she reclaimed her throne," the Empress said imperiously, "Yet…there seems to be very little damage. The skills of Kirkwall's masons should be applauded; do you not agree My Champion?"

Ser Michel de Chevin merely nodded, watchful for assassins.

Sebastian managed to hold his smile.

"The word of my wife's victory has been embellished since it occurred," Sebastian responded, "She returned to free Kirkwall from her brother, and the mad advisors that corrupted his rule, nothing more."

Celene smiled.

Sebastian realized that the Empress had tried to throw him off guard with that comment about Solona sacking the city. She no doubt knew what had truly happened, and simply had been attempting to take charge of the situation.

She was pleased that he had not risen to the bait.

"It has been some time since I last came to Kirkwall," she said, "You're wife's coronation I believe."

Sebastian nodded. Lona had told him about meeting Celene that day. She got the impression that woman was not that impressed with her as her Father's heir, much less as a fellow ruler.

At the time, that had irked his wife greatly.

"We stand ready to escort Your Radiance to the Viscount's Keep," Sebastian said respectfully, "At your leave of course."

Varric glanced at Serene; the bard gave him a quick nod.

So far…so good.

"Lead the way Your Lordship," the Empress replied, she turned to her servants. "Briala come, let us greet our Kirkwall neighbors."

The elven handmaiden said nothing and joined the other servants in carrying the Empress's train.

She chatted respectfully with Sebastian as they made their way to the keep, defended not only by city guard, but Celene's Chevaliers as well.

The Lord Consort did his best to hold his temper, while the empress jabbed at him with comments meant to elicit a response.

He glanced back at the dock.

He hoped things were going better for Ser Graydon and Garrett.

IOI

Gray and Hawke stood together on the dock while the King and his party disembarked, their two warhounds sat patiently at their feet, waiting for their master's orders.

As always, the knight and the rogue remained only coolly civil. What the Viscountess had always seen as a matter of two alpha dogs being expected to work together.

"Anything I need to know about the King, Stark" he inquired.

Gray chuckled, even as he did his best to stifle a yawn.

Hawke glared at him.

"Early morning," Gray shrugged.

The rogue snorted.

The King's party was not as pampered as the Orlesians, King Alistair had been a soldier most of his life, first as a Templar, and then as a Grey Warden.

The King sat comfortably among his soldiers; his regal red outfit was designed as much for movement as it was comfort, the seal of House Theirin decorated his shoulder.

Hawke smiled when he noticed a familiar figure travelling with his majesty.

Aedan Cousland nodded at the rogue.

At least he would not be totally bored to tears by their guests.

Ser Graydon Stark dropped to one knee as Alistair stepped off the boat.

"Your Majesty," he murmured."

Alistair snorted.

"Arise man," he said, "Maker's breath; people will think someone important just arrived."

The Hero of Ferelden chuckled.

"Someone did, I just got off the boat," he reminded the king.

"Oh right," Alistair replied, "I really should not take you anywhere, you're just too well known these days."

A man a few years older than the two wardens coughed, he had short reddish brown hair and a goatee.

Aedan grinned at him.

"We're just having a little fun Teagan," he said.

"As you say warden," the Fereldan noble replied.

Garrett stepped forward.

"Greeting Your Majesty," he said, "I'm Garrett Hawke, cousin to Her Excellency, the Viscountess Solona Amell of Kirkwall."

"Hello again Hawke," Aedan said shaking his hand.

"Milord," the rogue replied.

Alistair shook his hand boisterously.

"Pleased to meet you as well Lord Hawke," he said, "And we can lose the Your Majesty thing, I'm just Alistair."

Hawke chuckled.

"Pleased to meet you "Just Alistair and it is Garrett."

"Pleased to meet you "It is Garrett."

Both Stark and Teagan rolled their eyes.

They fell behind the nobles and their party.

Teagan glanced at Gray. He noticed the heraldry on the man's armor.

"You served in Maric's Shield?"

Gray nodded.

"Hmm," the noble replied.

The knight felt a sting to his honor.

"I did not desert Your Lordship," he said, "I fought during the Siege of Denerim. I only left Ferelden service about a year ago, after completing a mission for His Majesty."

Teagan turned to the knight.

"I…yes…I remember you now."

"Good," Stark replied, "I serve Kirkwall now, both as an advisor, and a warrior in the court of Her Grace Solona of House Amell."

The knight stood a little prouder.

"My loyalty is to her now, do not expect otherwise."

A hint of a smile played over Teagan's lips.

"I mean no disrespect," he said, "It is just good to see Fereldan faces here. I suspect that I will have my fill of painted faces and masks by the time this meeting is done."

Stark chuckled.

"I'm sure the Orlesians will not disappoint Milord."

"I'm certain they won't," Teagan agreed, "I suspect this will be a very long week."

Stark nodded.

_Forget you ever knew me._

The knight suppressed a tired sigh.

It would be a long week indeed.


	20. Plots

**Chapter 20: Plots**

That evening a party was held in the keep celebrating the arrival of the two rulers and their delegations. For the first time, Ferelden and Orlesian would be sitting down as friends and discussing matters of both mutual benefit, and peace.

_Or at least, Solona hoped they would._

The celebration, nowhere near as large as one of the Grand Balls, remained a bit divided, the Fereldans on their side of the room the Orlesians on the other. After their initial meeting Celene had retreated back to the company of her negotiators and guards. Alistair stayed close to Bann Teagan and Aedan.

The Kirkwallers mingled among them trying to open the lines of communication.

The Viscountess arrived late for the party, on the arm of her husband Sebastian Vael, both the Orlesians and the Fereldans congratulated the couple on the impending birth of their heirs.

The royal couple accepted those well wishes in the spirit in which they were given.

Solona and Sebastian both tried to playing the willing hosts. Both of them recognized the opportunity here. Orlais was not the most popular nation in Thedas right now. Its expansion period during the previous age had made its neighbors leery of the empire. Ferelden was still recovering from the Blight less than three years ago.

The Viscountess was still not entirely sure what kind of game the Empress was playing here. Yes, she was known to be a friend of Aedan Cousland, who was of course a friend to the king, but…had she wished to improve relations between Val Royeaux and Denerim there was no reason to involve the Free Marches.

No…the Empress was likely up to something…

Solona now had to figure out what that was.

Before she retired for the evening, the Viscountess gave a short speech reminding everyone of why they were here, to ensure not only the benefit of nations, but their people as well.

Sebastian led her back to their chambers. The Viscountess's back was bothering her again, she hated that her condition meant that she could not stay and try to speak more with her fellow rulers, but was under strict orders from her healers.

Family was to come before politics…

Perhaps…in some ways, it always should…

IOI

In the Viscountess's absence, it fell to the rest of her family and advisors to keep things moving smoothly. Leandra had stepped quickly into the role of family Matriarch. She recognized the fact that she could not replace Solona's mother, but the things she had learned as a girl served her well, in keeping the younger, and more hot-headed members of their family in line.

As for the two rulers, they were as different as night and day. Alistair of Ferelden seemed like a good natured lad, who was quite uncomfortable with all this finery. Bann Teagan remained close to him, whispering in the king's ear, and trying his best to keep his royal highness from putting his foot in his mouth.

Empress Celene was a complete polar opposite, the young woman seemed born to not only the throne, but the spotlight that came with it. She flirted and beguiled all the noble man around her, while at the same time showing off a power a grace that kept everyone around her intimidated.

This was not the first time that Leandra had met the empress, though she doubted that the other woman remembered. The night she eloped with Malcolm, the Valmont family had been visiting Kirkwall, and the Amells, being one of the oldest and most storied of families, had hosted a ball in the noble Valmonts' honor.

Celene had been just a child then, four or five years old maybe. It was hard to believe that that small blond child had grown into one of the most powerful women in Thedas.

She had managed to hear some of the conversations between the Orlesian nobles and their empress. The fact that their hostess was with child intrigued many of the nobles. Many commented on that fact to Celene.

The Empress did not justify their comments with an answer.

Leandra understood how the nobles must be feeling. The Empress had been on the throne for almost thirteen years now, and she was still unmarried and childless. That must have been very stressful for the Orlesian royal court.

Leandra frowned slightly.

Speaking of unmarried…

Garrett was trying to open up a dialogue with the Empress's Champion Ser Michel. The Orlesian, though respectful enough clearly did not think of the self-made lord. As for Garrett's part, he made no attempt to deny his heritage. He was Malcolm Hawke's son, the son of a Fereldan apostate, and he made no excuses for that. Though the two men did not fight, it was clear that Garrett did not approve of the other man's arrogance. Twice Leandra had to come over and intervene before the two men's conversation turned more heated than it should.

The older woman kept looking at her son. Garrett had been in a foul mood for several weeks now. She had tried to get him to talk about it, but he refused, though she suspected what might have been the reason…

That reason was currently in her dress armor speaking with Bann Teagan.

Leandra knew that Aveline and Garrett were having problems, what those problems were she was not entirely sure, all she did know is that both of them were too stubborn for their own good sometimes.

It saddened her truth be told.

She knew that up to about a month ago the guard captain had been spending her nights at the old Amell estate. She thought little of that, in fact she approved of the match. She loved Garrett, but her little boy did need a strong woman to keep him on the straight and narrow. Aveline could do that. Part of her expected to be calling the guard captain, daughter by now. She and Garrett had been so close, likely on the verge of that, but now…now…

She would have to speak with Varric see if he might be able to help.

Then…then there was the matter of Bethany.

She understood her daughter's anger; she had loved her husband so much. Her desire to see Neria Surana punished for what the elf had done to him was understandable, but at the same time she feared that that quest had begun to consume her daughter's life. Often Bethany had spent weeks away from her own child, returning exhausted, and a little darker each time, and then…then there was her…what was the best word for it…interest in Ser Avery Howell.

That…that was a match that Leandra did not approve of, the man seemed…he seemed far too shifty for her daughter.

That elven woman Athenril had approached Leandra about her own concern over the knight's interest in Bethany. She clearly did not trust the man and begged Leandra to speak to her daughter about him.

Bethany had disregarded her concerns, saying that she knew what she was doing, and asked politely for her mother to stay out of it.

Leandra had complied, grudgingly.

She prayed that her daughter **would **find love again. She was too young to remain a widow forever, but there were other men, better men then Ser Avery Howell.

If only Bethany would see that.

Add into all that the problems between Solona and Daylen, and it showed just how troubled House Amell had become in the last year.

With luck, she hoped, the birth of Solona's children would start turning things around.

Solona was happy but guarded, after the losses she had suffered over the last year; she was not ready to accept even this small happiness at face value.

Daylen was…well…Daylen was Daylen.

Her little cousin had been changed by those…those scales forming on his arm.

He had showed them to her during their last visit, all shiny and bladed. She could understand why the guards were so worried about them.

Personally, she was more worried about Daylen himself.

He seemed to believe them some divine gift, a symbol that he had achieved some new level in his life.

Leandra feared for her young cousin, he had suffered so much hardship. They all had, but Daylen had refused to try to move past it. He seemed to see it all as part of some grand destiny.

He still refused to see what he had tried to do to Solona as a mistake, and he still blamed her for the deaths of both Revka and Angelique.

Some days Leandra realized, just some days…she realized that she was a little afraid of Daylen.

She wondered if she was doing enough.

If there was any way to save Daylen from himself?

She had not given up on him. She refused to. She had increased her attempts to reach up, to try to bring back the shy young boy she had met when they first came here.

She noticed King Alistair pinned by the DeLauncet sisters, the poor boy looked like some trapped animal. She suspected that the girls were there under orders from their mother, trying to attract the king's attention.

Leandra smiled slightly. She decided to take pity on the poor boy. She went to his rescue. Having grown up with their mother, she knew how…persistent a Delauncet could be.

She might not be able to help her children with their problems, but at least she could save the young king.

She would have to settle for that small victory.

IOI

Bethany glided past the various party guests. A flute glass of wine in hand, her brown eyes carefully watching the Orlesian, Fereldan, and Kirkwall nobles fluttering around her.

She found them all so very…distasteful.

Everyone was acting like everything was fine, that everything was peaceful. Meanwhile, the war of lions still raged outside the city. Neria's recent victory had shaken the nobility. They might not admit it to her royal cousin, but more than a few nobles were starting to wonder if House Amell could survive the coming storm, or if they would be swept away by the opportunists that threatened them.

She did not intend to let that happen.

Several of the Orlesian noblemen looked at her as she passed by them. They no doubt had heard about her. The widowed cousin of the Viscountess, likely one of the wealthiest of the Amells, thanks to her many investments.

She did her best to suppress a sneer.

She wondered what they would think if they knew that she was a mage.

She decided not to risk it.

"Sickening aren't they?"

She smiled lightly as she turned.

"Hello Avery," she purred with a curtsey, "How nice of you to come."

The Ferelden knight smiled.

"After receiving a personal invitation from the Lady Bradley how could I refuse?"

She nodded, and offered him her arm.

He took it and led her past the many guests.

She spotted her mother giving her a concerned look. Athenril, who was staying near the back of the room, lowered her ears in anger.

Bethany did her best to ignore them both.

She was her own woman now.

She knew what she wanted.

Avery glanced at the Empress and her Champion.

He made no attempt to hide his sneer.

"They would see us all enslaved you know," he murmured, "The Orlesians."

Bethany smiled slightly.

"They underestimate us," she said, "House Amell had survived despite the odds before. We will survive again. Solona's children not only strengthen our family, but they also prove what is needed to lead Kirkwall into the next age."

Avery chuckled.

She gave him an amused look.

"Did I say something funny?"

He shook his head.

"I was just remembering that quiet young girl who sat at Lord Death's Hand's side, always staying silent, and always urging restraint."

She gave him a predatory smile.

"That girl has grown up," she replied, "She has learned how to protect what is hers."

She gave him a hard look.

"No one will ever take anything from me again."

He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it chastely.

Her cheeks warmed slightly.

"You do not have to face your enemies alone you know? There are those who will happily stand beside you."

She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze.

"I appreciate that."

He nodded as they passed by the Orlesians and made their way out of the ballroom.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the other guests, he felt safe enough to talk.

"I heard someone tried to kill Death's Hand?"

Bethany shrugged.

"They tried to cut that…that…thing off his wrist, they failed."

Avery snorted.

"Forgive me Milady, but it likely would have been better for Kirkwall if they had taken his head off, and not concerned themselves with his arm."

She gave him a questioning look.

"I mean no disrespect to your family," he said quickly, "Merely that Death's Hand is far too dangerous to be kept alive. If he died many of his supporters would lose their symbol, not to mention their claim to the throne of Kirkwall."

"You are probably right," she admitted, "But I understand my cousin's reasons for sparing him. He is her brother, and more to the point. He knows Neria Surana better than anyone.

"That…makes him an asset."

Avery smiled.

"You have not thought about killing him?" he asked, "Of ending him for what he did to your lord husband?"

She winced at the mention of Perrin, but showed little or no weakness.

"I'm a patient woman Ser Knight," she said, "My cousin will answer for what he has done and anyone who tried to prevent that…"

Avery's smiled widened.

"Anyone?" he asked.

"Anyone," she whispered softly.

IOI

Ser Avery fought the urge to cheer. He had thought that this would be more difficult. Bethany had always been so innocent, so unwilling to do what was necessary.

It seemed that she had changed, that was good…

For him.

He brushed a raven lock of hair out of her eyes. She looked at him now with such warmth, such affection.

He **could** use both.

_Thrones were not won by force of arms alone. Hearts and minds were necessary as well._

_He intended to have both with Bethany…_

_The throne could come later._

"Let us go elsewhere," he offered, "I have heard some news that you will find most interesting."

She gave him that little smile of hers.

"Should I be prepared to defend myself?" she asked coyly.

"I will trust that you will keep your wits about you."

Her expression turned colder as she let him lead her away.

"Don't worry," she murmured…

"I will."


	21. The Bard, the King, and the Hero

**Chapter 21: The Bard, the King, and the Hero**

As was her way, Solona Amell rose early. She slipped out of Sebastian's arms with a quick kiss and slipped on her robe. Her stomach growled slightly, reminding her that she had eaten little yesterday, and to further push home the point, one of the twins kicked her…hard.

She smiled slightly.

_Okay…breakfast time._

The Viscountess made her way down to the family dining hall, hoping to catch a quick bite before the summit got truly underway. Much care had been taken to make sure that no misunderstandings started between either the Ferelden or Orlesian entourages.

She had no intention of Kirkwall being the spark that ignited a war between the rival nations.

Solona had also hoped to have a chance to speak with Aedan this morning. The warden was extremely smart and no doubt before too long would hear about Morrigan's brief visit to the keep.

She intended to speak with her old friend about it first, better that he hear it from her then some kitchen maid or guard.

She also hoped to meet with her fellow rulers this morning, one on one. Both Alistair and Celene had no doubt come to this meeting looking to get certain things out of the other. The Viscountess hoped to be able to smooth over any rough edges on those points. Neither ruler would likely get everything they wanted, so trying to open them up to a little compromise before anything got started could not hurt.

Solona had just turned the corner and almost collided with an elven woman hurrying down the hall.

She let out a small squeak and lowered her eyes as she dropped into a quick curtsey.

"My apologies Your Excellency," she said quickly, fear clearly showing in her eyes, "I meant no disrespect Your Excellency!"

Solona smiled.

"It is alright," she said, "I had much on my mind and was not watching where I was going."

The elf relaxed slightly.

Solona took in the elf's face and realized that she was not one of the palace servants. Dark haired with dark eyes and tanned skin, the elf was dressed in finery, and her accent gave away whom it was she served.

"Are you lost?" the Viscountess asked, "The Orlesian delegation is in the north wing.

The woman gave her a chagrinned look.

"I was sent to the kitchens to fetch Her Radiance's breakfast," the elf said with a blush, "I must have gotten turned around on one of the back stairs."

Solona smiled slightly, it made sense. Some of her own servants had made that mistake in the past…

It made sense, but the Orlesians had Keep servants at their disposal, there was no reason for the empress to send this girl.

The elf shifted her feet nervously.

"If I might be so bold Your Excellency," she began, "I…I find what you have done with your elven servants here quite impressive."

"Thank you," Solona replied, "I wish to see Kirkwall moved forward, not spend itself wallowing in the past. The welfare of the elves here are important to me. Quite a few have proven to be skilled merchants and craftsman; there work not only enriches the Alienage, but also advances Kirkwall. Happy citizens are productive citizens."

The elven woman smiled.

"Her Radiance also seeks to see my people's lives enriched," she said, "The Empress would see the empire grow beyond the ideals of the game and the chevaliers."

The elf blushed slightly.

"She is a good woman Your Excellency, as you shall see for yourself."

Solona gave the girl a knowing nod.

She now understood what was going on.

Celene had sent the girl here to try to ingratiate herself with the Viscountess. It was a minor ploy and not unexpected. She was surprised the Alistair had not sent some to her just yet.

Such ploys were to be expected, she knew the game, and how to play it. Her years in Orlais had taught her to recognize a player when she saw one.

The elf clearly knew what she was doing.

Solona was impressed. The girl's responses were **so** genuine, she likely believed what she had told the Viscountess, but the nervousness, the fear, the blushing, if this was all an act it was an impressive one indeed."

The elf curtseyed again.

"Forgive me Your Excellency," she murmured, "But…but I must bring the Empress her breakfast, it would look badly on me if I failed in so simple a chore."

"Of course," Solona said, "The kitchens are that way, she said pointing, take a left at the old suit of armor, and another left where the walls turn to naked stone."

"Thank you," the elf said, "Thank you again Your Excellency."

"It is no trouble Serah…?"

"Briala, Milady, my name is Briala."

"It is no trouble Briala. Give my regards to Your Mistress."

The elf nodded and hurried away.

Solona paused, watching her go, her mind trying to puzzle out what the girl had been after besides bending her ear a bit.

"She waited a good fifteen minutes for you."

Solona jumped. She spun in time to see Serene step out of a darkened room behind her. The bard was dressed simply this morning, breeches and a black leather vest.

"Do you spend a lot of times in dark rooms?" Solona said with a touch of irritation.

"I do when I'm watching my fellows," she purred softly. She motioned to where Briala had vanished.

Solona's eyes narrowed slightly.

"The girl is a bard?"

Serene nodded.

"She is a clever one. She caught my eye at the party last night. Talking to every servant who she could, gathering every scrap of information she could. Asking about you, your brother, your…"

The elf paused.

"…The rest of your family. Asking about how the servants view you, looking for any weakness, anything her Imperial Majesty might exploit in getting you to aid her in these negotiations."

Solona quirked her lip. She suspected as much.

"She has had some training, she is good too, pays attention to every little detail," Serene added.

"So you are here to protect me?"

Again the bard nodded.

"Varric asked me to spend the night, make sure that nothing happened to you with so many dangerous people staying in the keep."

The Viscountess nodded, as Hand that was part of Varric's job.

The bard gave her a sly smile.

"I spotted her slipping past one of your sentries. I wanted to make sure the girl did not have something more sinister in mind, then simply bending your ear."

Solona winced, had the bard decided to attack her, she was not sure that she could have survived it. It would have looked like an accident of course, a simple slip and fall perhaps…

She would have to remember to thank Varric later for that. As always her friend had proven himself a valuable ally.

Neither of them liked the game all that much, but they could play it when they needed to.

"Give Varric my best," she told the elf, "And let me know if you hear anything…interesting."

"Of course," Serene shrugged, "Have a good day Your Excellency."

The elf vanished down the corridor, likely to make sure that Briala did not get lost again.

The Viscountess shivered.

So much for this being peaceful meeting of mutual rulers, it seemed that the game was alive and well in Kirkwall.

How wonderful.

IOI

She arrived to find the family dining room full.

Bethany sat in her chair spooning porridge into little Carver's mouth, the baby had more on his face than likely in his mouth, but that was the way of such things.

He giggled as Bethany made faces it him, trying to get him to enjoy his breakfast.

Sebastian rose as she entered, he must have woken shortly after her to beat her down here, likely taken the servant's entrance.

Either that or her meeting with Serene and Briala had gone on longer than she suspected.

He kissed her lightly and pulled out her chair for her.

She was also surprised to find Aedan and King Alistair here. Both men smiled as she entered. She nodded respectfully to them.

Well, she had hoped to have a one on one with the King before negotiations started.

Now would be as good a time as any.

"Your Majesty," she said warmly, "How nice of you to join us."

Alistair rose and kissed her hand.

"Viscountess Amell," he said, "It is an honor that you have chosen to host us for this historic meeting."

Solona quirked her lip, and looked at Aedan.

"Did you advise him to say that?"

The warden chuckled.

"She saw right through us Aedan," Alistair laughed.

"I thought she might," the hero of Ferelden said embracing Solona.

"It is good to see you again my friend," he said.

"And you as well," she replied.

"Papa?"

The small voice surprised Solona; she looked down to see a cute little red haired toddler standing behind them.

Aedan smiled down at her.

"Come here Pup," he said warmly, "There is someone I want you to meet."

The girl walked up to Aedan who scooped her up into his arms.

Solona's eyes widened.

"Aedan," she murmured, "Is…is that Eleanor?"

Both Father and daughter bobbed their heads in the affirmative.

"Allo, Madame," Ellie Cousland said.

The Viscountess almost gasped.

"Maker," she said, "She…she is getting so big!"

"I'm Papa's big girl," the child said proudly.

All the adults in the room smiled.

Eleanor Cousland had that effect on people.

"Leliana is busy in Orlais," the warden informed Solona, "Typically, Ellie would stay with her Uncle Fergus when we're out of the country, but…I thought that she might like to see Kirkwall. I want her to get to know the world around her.

The little girl leaned in and kissed her Father's cheek.

"Papa," she purred.

The warden smiled at the show of affection.

He faced the Viscountess.

"Ellie," Aedan said to his daughter, "This is Lady Lona. She has been your Papa's friend for a long time."

The girl regarded the Viscountess, she might have looked like a tiny version of Leliana, but her eyes were all Aedan. She had that same hard gaze.

"I have known your father since before you were born," Solona said to her.

The little girl blinked.

"A **long** time," the child said with a nod.

Aedan chuckled.

Solona did her best not to giggle.

"I suppose it is." She agreed.

Aedan sat back down, putting Ellie on his lap, as Solona joined them at the table.

The Viscountess regarded the king with a serious look.

"We should speak before negotiations get underway Your Majesty," she suggested, "Being that Kirkwall is hosting this meeting it might be for the best to know what is going on in your fine homeland right now."

"Of course, Your Excellency," he said, "But please, call me Alistair, we are fellow rulers after all, no point on standing on ceremony before an equal."

"That and Alistair does not like being called Your Majesty all the time," Aedan chimed in.

"No one said I had to like it," Alistair sniffed.

"True," the warden agreed, "But it is part of the job, isn't that right pup?"

Again Ellie nodded.

"Uncle Alistair is a king," she said.

The warden turned king laughed.

"Aedan taught her that to annoy me," he said.

The warden gave his friend a saucy grin.

Solona smiled.

The two were definitely brothers in arms if not in blood.

Ellie blinked as she saw Solona trying to get comfortable in her chair.

"Big lady," she murmured.

The Viscountess's eyes widened.

Sebastian and Bethany did their best to keep from laughing. Alistair coughed, trying not to choke on the food in his mouth.

The warden looked shocked.

"Ellie!" Aedan said blushing, "That…that is not nice."

The girl gave her father a questioning look.

She clearly saw nothing wrong with what she had said.

Solona smiled.

"It is okay Aedan," she said, "I'm not offended."

She patted the little girl's hand.

"I'm going to have children soon," she informed the little girl, "I'm about to become a Mama myself."

Ellie's little brow furrowed, Solona could almost imagine the wheels turning inside the little girl's head as she digested that information.

Finally, she nodded.

"Okay then," Ellie said, and went back to her business.

Solona chuckled.

A cute little girl and she was as smart as a whip.

The Viscountess smiled.

Aedan would have his hands full as she grew up.

IOI

Breakfast passed as the Viscountess and her family spoke with their guests.

Alistair admitted that he had come here hoping to reassure his nervous nobles. The Blight had damaged Ferelden greatly, it would likely be decades before certain parts of the country recovered, if ever…

He hoped to convince the empress to keep her nobles in check. Ferelden did not need another war with the empire right now. Their lands tainted, their armies decimated…

Alistair understood the best chance for peace was to convince the empress that Ferelden was more valuable as a trade partner right now then as a province that could be annexed.

Solona remembered her brief encounter with Briala.

Had the elf found some weakness in her? She did not think she had showed any, but knew how cunning Orlesians could be while playing their game.

Whatever happened she would not allow Celene to bully her into getting what she wanted out of Ferelden. She also intended to ask the Empress about the reports of Orlesian nobles offering Daylen chevaliers to aid him in his desire to secure the Free Marches.

She did not intend to insult her guest, but she would not show weakness either.

Showing weakness around the empire would be an invitation for the empire to take matters into their own hands.

She would not allow that.

Eventually, the group broke up; Bethany took Carver back to their chambers to get the boy cleaned up. Alistair returned to his quarters to get dressed and prepared for his meeting with the Empress. Sebastian left to take care of some matters in the chantry that Solona had asked him to, to finalize arrangements for lodgings of the seekers when they arrived to deal with Neria.

That left only Aedan and herself; the girl's governess had come and collected Ellie. It was time for the girl's lessons.

She waved goodbye to her papa as the woman carried her out of the room.

Solona sighed.

The two of them had much to talk about.

IOI

A short time later Aedan stood staring out the window, his eyes troubled, his bearing stiff.

The warden shook his head.

"Morrigan," he sighed.

Solona gave her friend a sympathetic look.

"She sent her regards before she left," she informed him, "But she asked that you remember the promise you made to her, not to come following after her."

He turned his eyes cold and hard.

"You said she had a son with her?"

The Viscountess nodded.

"He…has his mother's eyes," she said, "And his …his father's bearing."

She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should say what she wanted to. She knew the truth, but was not sure that he wanted to admit it to her.

In the end she chose to be truthful.

"You should be proud."

Aedan cursed under his breath, he paced nervously.

"I should not have let her go," he grumbled, "I should not have let them go."

Solona sighed and crossed her arms.

"Would you have been able to stop her?"

He turned and gave her a cold look.

"I…I could have tried."

Solona shook her head.

"And you would have accomplished nothing but make her angry," she said crossing her arms, "She still has great affection for you. You would have jeopardized that by trying to stop her.

Again Aedan cursed, he shook his head.

"**This** is ridiculous," he growled, "I love Leliana. I **married** her for Maker's sake! Why…why can't I just…"

The warden's fingers went to his neck, the black ring than hung from a chain there."

The Viscountess gave him a sympathetic look.

"You never forget your first love Aedan," she said, "And yes, I do think you loved her. You said it yourself, she saved you, brought you back from a very dark place in your life."

He clenched his hands in impotent rage. Anger flashed in his eyes, but faded to shame.

"She…she saved me," he hissed, "But I…I…I…"

"I love Leliana," he stated, "I love Ellie. They **are** my world. Morrigan is…she was…"

"Damn it," he growled.

"Would you like to break something?" the Viscountess offered, "I have a lovely collection of training dummies?"

He gave her a look, seeing the amusement in her face.

Despite the storm inside him, the warden chuckled.

"Maker save me," he said shaking his head.

"You understand don't you?" he asked, "What I feel…what I felt for Morrigan, it has nothing to do with…"

She came up behind him and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"I understand," she said softly.

He gave her a grateful look.

The Viscountess sighed.

"I felt that you deserved to know," she said, "She was here, and then she left. I did not mean to cause you pain, only to tell you the truth."

He nodded again.

"Did…did she say where she was going next?"

Solons shook her head no.

Aedan sighed.

"No, she would not have."

He turned to leave.

"What will you do now?" she asked.

He paused in the doorway. He took a deep breath.

"I won't openly hunt her," he said, "But…that does not mean that I will not search for her if I hear she has been sighted."

He gave her a chagrinned look.

"I have to know Lona," he said, "I have to see her again. After Fort Drakon…I…I need to see her again. I need…closure. She just left after the battle, she did not even say goodbye."

He sighed.

"I **need** that goodbye," he admitted, "Perhaps then…then…"

He held the ring Morrigan had given him up to his eyes, he suddenly seemed very weary.

"I need to let go," he said, "Then…then it will be over.

He left; his movements seemed more labored than they had been before.

Solona gave her friend a worried look.

_Andraste guide you on this quest Aedan Cousland_, she thought.

_May you find the closure you seek._


	22. Lions of White and Gold

**Chapter 22: Lions of White and Gold**

The crisp fall air made the Viscount's Gardens a little chilly that afternoon, the last leaves of the trees had fallen, the flowers all but gone, accept for the hardier fall blossoms, and a smattering of stubborn summer flowers that were position just so to still drink in much of the sun's light. These flowers were not yet ready to give winter its due, and stood defiant, even against the changing of the seasons.

_We have something in common_, Solona thought with an amused smirk.

The Viscountess and Ser Graydon made their way through the garden paths to the gazebo where the royal family sometimes ate dinner during the summer. Solona had received word that Empress Celene would like to meet with her there, far from the prying ears of the keep.

The young ruler understood the Empress's caution, it was a shame that she needed to take such precautions in her own keep, but after all that Death's Hand had done right under her nose. She accepted the need for a little healthy dose of paranoia.

Of course, she also recognized that the Empress might seek to speak out here for other reasons.

Solona pulled her fur lined cloak tighter around herself, still not quite covering the bulge in her belly, not that she thought to, though she clearly could not fight the way she once had, she was not defenseless. The Empress would have her champion with her of course, but the Viscountess did not think for one moment that Celene would order her knight to attempt something so mundane in the gardens of keep.

No, if Celene tried something like that, it would only be set in motion after she was safely away from the city, when she would seem blameless.

That, she remembered was the ways of the game.

The Viscountess had few fond memories of her time in Orlais. Livia's death still haunted her. Her friend however had loved Orlais, the masks, the night life, and the excitement had enthralled the young mage. Only once, when they had been staying in Val Royeaux had Solona and Livia got out enjoy the city's splendors, their master had been furious with them.

The ruler smiled. Livia had been right that day, it had been worth it.

Now she was going to address the empress, and find out what she expected of this summit. Celene and her champion Ser Michel awaited their arrival.

Ser Stark had decided to listen to Serene and act as Solona's champion. Cousin Garrett had offered to stand with her, but Serene had thought that that might not be appropriate.

The Viscountess having a member of her family with her would likely send off the wrong message. It suggested that the Amells might try to bully the empress into having this summit go only the way that Kirkwall needed. A neutral knight was a much better choice the elf informed them.

Not that Ser Gray was neutral of course, he was far from that. In the short time that they had known each other, Solona had come to see the man as not only one of her best advisors, but one of her closest friends.

Gray had stood with her during one of the darkest periods in her life. She still remembered all those dark evenings when it was just her, Gray, and Tallis. She had been so lost then afraid for Sebastian, scared that she had gone mad, and torturing herself with grief over the loss of her mother.

Solona sighed. Gray had been so kind to her back then, giving her both the space and time she needed to recover from her brother's foul treachery.

She found herself glancing at her friend; though he was not armored he still carried his blade, just as the Empress's champion would be. Gray seemed very uncomfortable with all this, but given the history between Orlais and Ferelden, not to mention his former position as one of Loghain MacTir's knights, made that perfectly understandable.

_Of course, it might also be something else… _

The Viscountess frowned.

Gray had mentioned to her about Tallis's late night visit. How their Qunari friend seemed worried about their safety. How Tallis had tried to warn them both off of doing anything against whatever it was the Arishok had planned.

Gray had sighed then, clearly not sure if he was ready to tell the next part.

In the end, he had decided to trust her.

That…that is when he told her about the kiss, Gray's hand went to his lips self-consciously, remembering the feather-light touch of their friend's lips.

Solona did not lie, part of her was grateful to hear about that. The knight and the Qunari were two of her closest allies.

She was happy to hear that they had found each other.

Gray had suffered much. She hoped that Tallis would not end up hurting him again. She cared about his as much as it was possible given their mutual stations.

She hated to admit it, but…but had the worst happened, had Sebastian been slain by the people who had kidnapped him back then. Solona was not entirely sure that she and Gray might not have eventually ended up together, that he might have been her new consort.

Of course, if that had happened, it was likely that she would never have been able to convince Starkhaven to aid her so quickly, that her claim by marriage as a member of their family would not have been strong enough to gain their aid.

If that had happened, everything would have changed.

"Are you feeling alright, Your Grace?"

Gray's question brought her back to the now, she shook her head and smiled with a slight nod.

Now was not the time to be dwelling in the past, not with the Orlesian Empress awaiting her arrival. She needed to be strong for Kirkwall, and show Celene that she was firmly in control of both herself, and her city.

It would keep things civil between Orlais and Kirkwall…

And that is what she desperately needed right now.

IOI

Celene glanced up as Solona approached. Clad in robes of dark purple and black, Celene truly looked to be a master of her domain. The Orlesian had foregone her mask today, choosing to face Solona as an equal, her blue eyes sparkled, her cheeks rouged slightly by make-up and the cold air, her red lips a slash on pale skin.

The empress gave her a cold smile that did not touch her eyes, brought on not by actual friendship, but the politeness of court.

For a moment, the Viscountess remembered the last time they had met during her coronation. Celene had not been impressed with her then. She viewed Solona as an untested girl, who had done nothing to prove herself worthy of the throne on which she now sat…

Of course, the fact that Viscountess had caught Cailan of Ferelden's attention that day might have also contributed to that reaction. The rumor back then was that Celene had been trying to convince Cailan to abandon his young wife Anora and take up with her. Had that occurred, the empress would have brought Ferelden back into the imperial fold without risking a single Orlesian life…

Of course, that point was moot now, Cailan had died at Ostagar, and his brother now sat on the throne.

The Empress remained unmarried. She had produced no heirs to the throne, and many of the Orlesian nobles had begun to become concerned about that. At twenty-nine, Celene was not getting any younger, and desire could only hold the young men of Orlais at bay for so long.

Solona let her cloak open a little, revealing her own condition, not that Celene could have failed to notice it of course, but simply as a reminder that she had done much to further her claim to the throne. She had defeated her brother's schemes, wed a brave young noble, and he had given her heirs.

It was a petty victory perhaps, but an expected one.

"Your Excellency," Celene purred, "It pleases me greatly that you have decided to host this meeting."

"It is my pleasure, Your Radiance," Solona replied, "Many in the Free Marches have close ties with Orlais. How could I not choose to aid you in the business of furthering peace?"

Solona sat down, while Gray took his place at her right side. The Empress's champion said nothing, to address either of them, but that was also protocol. An Orlesian champion was an extension of his or her master's will, and would only speak if spoken to.

"Lovely gardens," Celene said glancing around them, "It is a shame that Kirkwall's beauty was lost to the empire. There was a time that it was considered one of the glittering jewels in the imperial crown."

Solona smiled.

"Freedom has always been an ideal embedded deep in the Marcher soul," she said, "Orlais was not the first nation to attempt to…bring us under their banner. Many have tried to see us annex, but yet here we remain."

"Men like your brother?"

The Viscountess coughed, and immediately cursed herself silently for it.

Celene was a master player of the game. Solona knew that she would not try to bully Kirkwall into supporting her openly, but that did not mean that she would try to nudge her host in the direction she wanted her to go. The Empress likely knew what was going on in the War of Lions.

It was Solona's job to make sure that that knowledge did not turn into Orlais openly supporting her rivals.

"Daylen was overly ambitious," Solona said regaining her composure, "His…desire to serve as Viscount got in the way of his loyalty."

She smiled at the empress.

"He has been punished for that."

"So I have heard," Celene replied, "Such excitement, you must feel a great deal of pressure holding him here."

"He is securely contained."

"Never the less," the Empress continued, "If you desire to send him into exile, Orlais would be happy to take him off your hands. "I could guarantee that he would cause no more problems for you, and give you the time you needed to get your house back in order."

Solona chuckled.

She would be a fool to accept Celene's offer. In Orlais, Death's Hand would have access to not only soldiers, but noble allies to rebuild his forces. The Empress might even support him given time, if she was trying to prevent a war between Orlais and Ferelden as she claimed, then she might decide to pacify her nobles by offering them a war against Kirkwall, a war meant to put the rightful Viscount back on his throne.

The Viscountess would damn herself before giving Celene that chance.

"Your…generosity is appreciated, Your Radiance," she said, "But things are well in hand. A few troublemakers continue to resist my rule, but they will be dealt with. My brother's claims to the throne dwindle with each passing day."

Solona lovingly touched her belly.

"The birth of my children will close that door forever."

Something dark flickered behind the empress's eyes. Solona knew she had scored a hit. Celene had decided to fight dirty, bringing up Daylen, and she had responded in kind.

Solona knew the pressure on a young ruler to produce an heir all too well.

Celene was no doubt being crushed under the weight of it.

IOI

What passed for a civil discussion between the two women was actually a well-orchestrated duel. They spoke of the affairs of the elves in the city, Celene stating all that she had done, and Solona responded in kind.

The golden lioness of Valmont fought the white lioness of Amell, neither wishing to give an inch.

Celene offered to increase trade to the city, in exchange for Solona providing additional security for Orlesian shipping. Solona had to be careful here, if she accepted then Orlais could be offended if Kirkwall failed to protect those traders.

Until Solona had a deal with Estwatch, she could not make such an agreement.

She suspected that Celene knew about her Estwatch dealings, they were not secret after all. Many a servant had heard them being discussed, discussions that had likely fallen on the ears of Celene's agents, likely that elven girl, Briala.

The Viscountess offered to bring the offer to her trade minister, an offer that the Empress thanked her for.

Ferelden was also discussed. Celene again reassured her that she had no desire to plunge the empire into war, not with Tevinter, Antiva, and Nevarra watching them so closely. She suggested rewards if Solona offered to let Orlais use Kirkwall harbor as a staging area for its many naval vessels. Vessels that could not only aid in the defense of their friends, but could also keep Orlais's enemies from doing something foolish.

"Again Solona promised to discuss such matters with her advisors, as was expected. She had no intention of letting foreign troops into her city. Unlike the Qunari, no treaty existed between Orlais and Kirkwall.

She would not give the Orlesians a chance to get a foothold in the Marches.

Eventually the meeting ended, and Solona and Celene embraced as old friends, while they both knew that they were not.

Both lions retreated to lick their wounds and evaluate their strategies for the coming summit.

Solona sighed, she felt dirty. She wanted to do nothing but go down to her baths and soak for a few hours.

Alas, that was not meant to be.

"That was interesting," Gray murmured.

Solona smirked.

"To say the least my friend," she replied dryly.

The two of them returned to the keep, Solona hoped to find a moment of peace before she had to sit between Alistair and Celene.

A young elven boy came up to her, breathless from running.

She paused as he presented her with a scroll, which she read quickly. She did not quite smile, but she looked pleased.

"Interesting," she murmured.

"Good news?" Gray asked.

"Perhaps," Solona said, "It is from one of the Seekers of Truth."

The Viscountess could not keep the excitement out of her voice at the next statement.

"They have found Neria Surana."

**A/N: If anyone is interested in the story of Liv and Lona in Val Royeaux let me know, it might be a good humor piece for my grim tales. As for next chapter, a bit of fighting, see you all then.**

**DG**


	23. Swords of the Maker

**Chapter 23: Swords of the Maker**

The morning that the Viscountess dined with Alistair and Aedan, Neria Surana rose from her rest in a small command tent along the wounded coast. Her forces had once again been raiding along the coastline, demanding tribute from the passing merchants.

It was just another piece of the puzzle, another act that would hasten Solona Amell's journey to the flame.

The elf sighed and stretched like a sleepy cat, enjoying the simple sensation. Near her bed, a small elven wet-nurse fed Neria's newborn baby, the girl would not meet the blood mage's gaze, so great was her fear of her.

Neria smiled.

The girl had been taken from a village not far from here; they had refused to pay Lord Death's Hand's servants the tribute they deserved…

Neria had had the entire village purged. Stanley had found the girl hiding in a barn. The girl had lost her own child during the attack. Neria, who had no time to tend to her newborn's needs, pressed the girl into service.

She would do whatever her new mistress demanded, or she would suffer.

The red witch dressed quickly, there had been problems in the night, Francois had promised to see to them before she had retired for the eve. She found herself eager to see the results.

She shot a quick glance at the babe her servant was caring for. A wave of emotions washed over her, a mix of affection and disappointment.

The red lady frowned.

_It seemed that she had been wrong about the future._

She had promised Death's Hand an heir, and she had delivered, but…

She had promised him a strong son, someone to follow in his footsteps and lead his armies against the world…

What she had given him, was a daughter.

Their little Angelique.

"Is she well?"

The nurse looked up, her wide eyes troubled, likely heartsick over the loss of her own family. Neria had promised to spare her as long as little Angelique was cared for.

It was one of the few promises that she could say that she had made in good faith.

The nurse still refused to meet her eyes, but she did respond.

"The little princess is fine mistress," the girl said, "She is merely hungry."

Neria approached, the girl did her best to suppress a whimper.

The blood mage looked down at the bundle in her hands.

A shock of red hair was starting to grow in on the babe's head. Her own green eyes stared back at her, but the girl's face, the cherub-like impishness…

It reminded her so much of her beloved lord and master.

Neria felt cold, staring into that little face…

Daylen.

It made her miss his warm caresses. The fierceness of his arms, his lips attacking hers, his…

"Milady."

Again Neria jumped.

Stanley stood behind her, a pleased expression on his bland face.

She glared at him, but did not give him the pleasure of an angry retort.

_If he was not such a good soldier…_

"Speak," she ordered.

Her man smiled.

"Francois caught some hunters in the night," he said, "Templars out of the Gallows."

His face turned more predatory.

"We thought you might want to see them off to their Maker's side."

Neria smiled.

In this she could not hide her pleasure.

Little Angelique disturbed her, made her have fears and doubts, but Templars…

She enjoyed dealing with Templars.

"I would indeed," she said.

Stanley nodded and motioned for her to follow.

Neria grinned as she retrieved her staff.

As a child she had always feared Templars, they came into the Alienage and snatched children out of the arms of their parents. They likely would have snatched her if she had not been strong enough to flee.

She typically did not indulge herself in dealing with the chantry's attack dogs, but today was a special case.

She would leave no evidence of their passing; she would dispose of their remains when she was done. Knight-Commander Meredith would not know what had become of them. She might suspect Neria or one of the other contenders for the Viscount's throne, but suspicion was not proof.

It would only serve to further harden the Knight-Commander's resolve against Solona Amell, and that was always useful.

She looked at that scared nurse.

"Bring my child," she ordered.

"I wish the men to see what they are fighting for."

The girl rose and followed in the blood mage's wake.

The sea breeze kissed Neria's skin; it gently blew her robes as she made her way down to where the Templars were being held.

Her heart fluttered with anticipation.

This…this was going to be fun.

IOI

Two figures stood watching the small camp.

The collection of warriors that the blood mage had gathered to herself was quite impressive.

The larger of the two figures, a barrel chested man in black armor, stood patiently counting the men that served the maleficar. Slowly, a strategy began to build in his mind's eye. They had spotted the Templars last night, riding hard with their guide, hoping no doubt to take the blood mage unaware.

In this, the group had failed. It was possible that some of the elf's followers were simply thralls under her command, but it was clear that that was not the case for all. Warriors who followed such evil of their own free will were far more dangerous, they could think independent of their leader.

The man sighed.

Defeating the blood mage would not be easy.

He looked at his companion. Smaller in size, the other knight seemed infused with a boundless energy, practically bouncing as if being born with springs in her legs.

_**Was**__ he ever that young? Did __**he **__ever have such boundless strength himself?_

The knight could not remember.

He shook his head he had taken the girl as his squire, and had begun training her in the ways of the order, the skills were there, the strength was there, but…as his squire, she still had much to learn.

"Gather the others," he ordered.

She looked up at him.

"We could take them now."

He almost chuckled.

_Oh the bravado of the young._

"There are too many," he reminded her.

"They could not stand against you."

"Perhaps," he replied, "Perhaps not, the others will make things more certain."

The girl paused.

Her mentor's eyes narrowed.

"You have your orders," he said, "Carry them out now."

His squire left to see that all was in readiness; she knew when her master spoke in that tone that it was best that she obey.

Whatever happened they were going to try and not only save those men down there, but end the threat of a ruthless blood mage.

With the will and strength of the Maker, they would succeed.

That… and the strength of good steel, hopefully, that would be enough.

IOI

Neria gave an amused chuckle as she regarded their prisoners. Three of the Templars had survived Francois's ambush, the one baited by Stanley. Two she did not recognize, but her time in the Viscountess's service had taught her the name of one of them, their most senior member.

"Knight-Captain Cullen," she purred, "What a nice surprise!"

The Ferelden born Templar did not respond, in truth, he did not look well at all at that moment. He seemed paralyzed, and lost in prayer.

Neria smiled.

She remembered that Solona had said once that the boy had been captured by blood mages during the Blight, that he had been tortured by them…

The elf almost laughed. Part of her wished to reach into the man's mind and explore such horrors. She enjoyed seeing strong and handsome warriors brought low. She enjoyed watching them snap, and turn to her favor to escape such treatment; unfortunately she did not have the time.

She would not and could not afford to be that patient.

She glared at the three men.

"You have involved yourselves in affairs that are no business of the chantry," she said coldly.

"You are our business knife-ear," one of the knights said hotly, "Magic is to serve man and not rule him!"

The man's eyes turned murderous in that moment.

"The Knight-Commander will see you punished for your crimes."

"She underestimates me," Neria said coldly, "Had she not, she would have sent more men."

She regarded what Francois had done to the Templars, he had tied each of them to a tall stake, and the men had begun to spread dry brush and wood at their feet.

Neria smiled.

She loved the former bard's sense of irony.

More than a few torches still burned in their little camp. She plucked one from one of her attendants.

The loudmouth shut up when he saw it. The other man looked green but did not respond.

Cullen said nothing; he was still lost in prayer.

She sneered as she regarded the rest of her entourage. Francois said nothing; the large man seemed pleased that she liked his idea of how to deal with the Templars. Stanley's bland expression remained unreadable. She knew the man had a ruthless streak, but he kept it well hidden most of the time.

She could not tell if he approved or disapproved of what was about to happen.

Feynriel, the newest member of her entourage, looked a little green. He shared her hatred for Templars, but had never acted on it before.

As a dreamer, he was likely the most powerful of their allies, he had aided her in taking that trade post from Solona a few days ago. He had slain the officers in their dreams, turning their own worst nightmares against them.

It had been a useful gambit.

The nurse stood in the back, little Angelique had begun to cry, the elven girl did her best to sooth the child.

Neria twirled the torch dramatically.

"The chantry teaches of the cleansing nature of flames," she said dryly, "That Andraste herself was purified during her own execution."

She smirked at the Templars.

"Shall we see if fire will purify these men?"

Some of her allies cheered, others were not so enthusiastic. Neria turned to her soldiers, a cunning smile spread across her face.

"These men seek to oppose the way of things. They oppose me in returning our lord and master to his rightful throne. They oppose me seeing the usurper who has brought so much pain down upon Kirkwall removed."

She went over and took a bottle of wine from one of her nobles, smirking she began to splash it over the bound men.

The two younger knights cried out, one snarling oaths of vengeance, the other begging for deliverance.

Cullen closed his eyes and prayed.

IOI

He felt the wine splash his face, he could hear the jeers of the blood mage's men.

For moment he was back in Kinloch Hold, unable to anything to stop Uldred's followers from doing whatever they wanted to his friends and fellow Templars.

He had felt so helpless then.

As before he turned to prayer, asking for the Maker's strength to either be saved or to die well in service to the order, he would not give the elf the satisfaction of thinking that she had broken him.

He had lost too much to Uldred.

He refused to give anything more.

He felt the heat of the mage's torch, he knew then that his time was done, she would press the brand to his flesh, the wine would catch and ignite the wood, and he would burn.

He felt a sense of calmness settle over him, if this was to be his end he would face it with serenity and faith.

He readied his soul for his end, his final journey to the Maker.

Suddenly the air filled with screams, no longer jeers or cheering but cries of shock and dismay, the torch came away from him, as he heard an arrow whiz by his ear.

He heard the blood mage barking orders, the roar of her red guard as they drew their weapons and readied themselves for battle.

Then…he heard something else, words he had never expected to hear so far from hope.

"FOR THE CHANTRY!"

In that moment, Cullen realized that his prayers had been answered.

That his men had been saved, and that he would be saved.

Praise Andraste.

IOI

The knight drove through the blood mage's servants, many were simply lap dogs, wealthy fools who thought the elf could bring them power and glory.

They were the easiest to deal with.

The men in the red cloaks were another story, he could sense the corruption within them, the blood magic that had changed them for men and turned them into weapons. They were fast, strong, and savage.

But then again, so was he…

…and so was his squire.

She fought savagely through the Red Guard, those known as Death's Hand's elite; her blades flashed as she cleaved flesh and armor both. At least three of the Red Guard died trying to stop the girl, the words 'Die for Death's Hand' on their lips.

The knight and his squire pushed forward, their men would handle the soldiers and nobles. He was going to try and save their Templar brothers.

His apprentice was going after Neria.

The blood mage tried to unleash her foul magic upon them. The knight smited her knocking her to the ground. A large man with a heavy maul stepped between them, trying to crush in his chest plate with his mighty blows.

The knight was faster, he had trained to bring down Templars in combat. Once you had done that, a simple warrior was not much of challenge.

"YOU ARE DEAD MAGE!" he heard his squire roar with fury, "YOU ARE DEAD!"

The elf witch smiled at them, she held up the torch, and tossed it at the base of the stakes.

Fire began to spread to the three Templars; soon they would begin to burn.

The knight abandoned his fight with the strong man and went to aid his fellows.

The blood mage retreated dragging a blond haired teen behind her, the large man and another warrior protecting them.

His squire snarled in fury, she cut down two more guards trying to bar her path to her prey.

The knight knew that she would likely catch the witch, but not before the Templars burned to death.

He would not allow that.

"CASSANDRA TO ME!" he shouted.

His squire paused.

"I CAN CATCH HER BYRON," she snarled, "I CAN END THIS!"

"INNOCENT LIVES ARE IN DANGER," Byron called back, "There will be a better time. These men need our help."

Cursing, Cassandra Pentaghast turned away from her pursuit to aid Byron in saving the three Templars.

She shot a quick glance over her shoulder at the retreating Neria.

"Spineless blood mage," she murmured.

One thing she knew to be true, Byron was right.

There would be another time.

IOI

In the hour that followed the battle the Seekers took stock of their losses and saw to their dead. Two had fallen to Neria's red guards, while another had been wounded.

Six nobles who had been with the blood mage perished under seeker blades, as well as twenty soldiers, and five of those red robed monsters.

Of the Templars that the witch had been holding, they seemed fine.

Cassandra stalked across the broken camp like an angry bear, hoping to find some clue of where their quarry had fled.

The young squire cursed.

Had Byron not stopped her…

The sound of whimpering drew her attention. The young seeker drew her blade and advanced on the source a nearly collapsed tent.

With the quickness born of being a dragon hunter, Cassandra cut through the tent and pulled her prey into the light.

"NO!" the young elven girl sobbed, "Please…please don't hurt me!"

"Thought you could hide from us?" Cassandra growled, "Blood mage pawn, I will…"

A loud wail pierced the air; the elf did her best to shield the burden she carried.

"Please stop," she begged, "It isn't her fault. She is just an innocent child, it is not her fault her mother is a monster."

It took the young seeker a moment to figure out what the girl was talking about, but then she noticed it, the bundle in the girl's hands.

The wailing baby in her arms.

Cassandra paused, unsure of what to do.

Byron ran up to her.

"What is going on Cassandra, what have…?"

He paused when he looked at the terrified elf and the infant she carried.

Any anger in his eyes turned to pity, he was not sure what was going on, but he would not harm a girl with a babe in her arms.

He looked at his squire.

"Ready the horses Cassandra," he ordered.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

He turned away from her helping the elven girl to her feet.

"We go to Kirkwall," he informed her.

He looked down at the girl, and her infant.

"We must bring these two to the Viscountess."


	24. Shadow of the Future

**Chapter 24: Shadow of the Future**

They met in the fade, as they had done many times before. In dreams a lord could not be caged, and his servant could not be kept from him. He was not able to touch her, but that was a mere inconvenience.

Death's Hand sat on his throne, or at least his dream's interpretation of his throne, while Neria paced before him.

The elf was livid, almost beyond words…

_Almost._

"I **will** have their heads," she snarled, her eyes flashing with magic a fury, "I **will **see the flesh melt from their bones. Those Seeker bastards will beg me for release before I…"

Daylen sighed, he felt cold and worried, but he did not let it show, nor did he let his own rage show.

He was saving it, for those that deserved it.

"**You** are going to do nothing," he said coldly.

She spun and faced him; in here at least he looked powerful, not dirty or covered in rags. He stood as a noble outside as well as in.

"How can you say that?" she demanded, "They took our child, **your** heir."

For the first time since the girl was born, she felt fear for their baby's welfare.

"The Templars will kill her, and if they don't your sister will."

Daylen's eyes narrowed, he knew his sister was capable of such an act; she had murdered Angelique after all…

No, he did not think that she would be able to be so bold. Sebastian and Leandra would certainly preach mercy. Besides the babe was a valuable hostage. He hated to think that one Amell would do that to another. It had been different between him and Garrett. Garrett Hawke had been plotting against him, and Daylen had placed him in protective custody, for his own good.

The former ruler's eyes narrowed.

He had showed his cousin mercy, and Garrett had nearly destroyed him for it.

He would not make that same mistake again.

"Our child is an Amell," he reminded his lover, "her place is here in Kirkwall, safe in the keep, safe in a place where she can learn about her family, and her duty to them."

Neria clearly did not see things that way.

"As your sister's slave," the blood mage growled.

Death's Hand sneered.

"Were you not here just a few weeks ago lamenting our child's birth? Did you not stand before me apologizing that you had not given me a son?"

He chuckled.

"You sound so worried now."

Fury flashed in the elf's eyes.

"**She is mine**," she growled with fury, "Born of my flesh, and those…those chantry lapdogs stole her from me…ME!"

"And now you are free to serve me completely again," Death's Hand responded, "An army camp is no place for a baby."

"She is among your enemies."

"And allies," Death's Hand purred.

That stopped Neria's mid-rant.

Death's Hand chuckled.

"You think that I have no allies left in this city?" he asked, "You think that I did not cultivate allies beyond what you and Angelique knew?"

The elf blinked.

"But you needed me to…"

"Yes, I did," he agreed, "And your powers were and still are quite useful, but they are not my only weapon."

He rose from the throne and stood before her, his face kind.

"You have enjoyed the power that you have taken from me haven't you? The power over your enemies, the power of life and death, it can be intoxicating."

He paused, his eyes turning colder.

"I believe you are forgetting something. You. Are. My. Servant. You are no Viscountess or empress. You serve me, and how you serve me reflects on me."

"I have done what was necessary, to preserve your army, and your chance to regain the throne."

Death's Hand chuckled.

"And you have done this entirely out of the kindness of your heart? No. I may have forgiven you for abandoning us, but I have not forgotten. I may profit from what you are doing, but you have not gone without your rewards either. You have ambitions of your own. You saw an opportunity, and you took it."

The elf said nothing.

Her lord and love continued.

"I learned well how to the play the game, you and Angelique were good teachers. Lesson one was always have other weapons at your disposal, if one was compromised then the other remained secure."

He reached out to her with his clawed hand; she was shocked when she realized she could feel the smoothness of it, the strange blend of icy cold and volcanic heat.

_This was a dream. Mages ruled here, she should not have been able…_

One of the claws traced the edge of one elven ear.

"I loved you both," he cooed, "But never, **NEVER**, think that I was simply your pawn."

The claw tightened on her elven ear, she squeaked in surprise.

_Daylen should not have been able to touch her here!_

She felt the sharpness of his claws, he…he could take her ear off if he chose…

"My love," she gasped, "Please!"

For a moment there was a flicker of light in Death's Hand's eye, a flicker that quickly went out.

He released her; she reached up and felt blood.

Death's Hand smirked and turned away.

"This war is **not** over," he reminded her, "We still have the dreamer, and I still have a few cards to play. Pawns who do not even realize that they are pawns are moving even as we speak."

He smiled.

"Our daughter will stay where she is. I know how to guarantee that that will be **here** in the keep. Solona will not turn her own niece over the Meredith. She hates the Templar woman too much for that."

"What of the seekers?" Neria asked.

"They are of little consequence," he said, "You got careless on that beach. You allowed your victories to make you over confident."

He smiled.

"I trust you have learned your lesson."

"My love…I…"

"NERIA!"

Death's Hand's voice shook the dream world. The mage fell silent.

He glared at her.

"I have given you my orders, my power is absolute in this, and I will not be questioned by you."

He held up his hand, the claws extended to their full length, five small scythe-like blades.

He gave her his most imperious glare.

"You will evade the seekers, run them ragged. You will also continue to train Feynriel. Famish is helping you in this?"

"Yes."

"Then see to it that our little dreamer is ready when I need him."

She shifted where she stood.

He glared at her.

"You disapprove?"

"No, my lord."

Death's Hand smiled.

"Good," he said, "Leave me to worry about my daughter's welfare. This…this is not what I had planned, but it may yet work to our advantage."

He ran his claws down one of the stone columns; the blades ripped it like sand.

Death's Hand smiled.

"This may be exactly what we needed, to hasten the day that my beloved sister…shall fall."

Neria said nothing.

Daylen's eyes turned cold again.

"Of course, there is a chance that I am wrong. That my sister has learned her lesson and will make sure that my heir does grow to adulthood. That in your hurry to escape, you abandoned her to death."

He gave her a murderous look.

"I that is true, if your cowardice cost us my daughter's life, know that you will have nowhere to run. There is no alienage, no barren waste, and no space in the fade that I will not search to find you, and make you pay for my loss."

Again the elf said nothing, she felt shamed by the babe's loss.

"Do you understand?" he asked.

"Yes."

He nodded.

"Then return to your duties my love," he said dismissively.

He awoke his final words to her still on his lips.

"We **still **have much to do."

IOI

There was much commotion in the keep when the seekers marched into Kirkwall. Word of the skirmish on the wounded coast had already reached the ears of many. Even the summit between Orlais and Ferelden was momentarily suspended as the knights approached the keep.

The royal court assembled quickly, not to mention the Templars. Knight-Commander Meredith made her way to the keep without delay. Eager to speak with the men and women who had saved the lives or her men…

_And to see the prisoners they had taken._

Word of an elven prisoner had excited the nobles; many had hoped that the blood mage had been caught, that the seekers were dragging her back to face justice.

The sight of a lowborn wet nurse and an infant was a disappointment to many.

Kala was her name, and the babe she carried in her arms was Angie….

…The daughter of Death's Hand.

That revelation had not gone over well with the royal court.

The Viscountess called for silence.

Some nobles said the baby needed to be put to death immediately.

_The elf blooded bastard of Death's Hand had no right to live!_

Knight-Commander Meredith demanded that it be given to the chantry, where it could be tested and dealt with as needed to be.

_If the girl is born of a mage, then she belonged to the chantry._

Solona said nothing, her mind whirled, and on one hand was her hatred for Neria and all the death that she had caused, on the other hand was a poor mewling infant who had no power over who her parents were. Some would say that the child had no right to exist.

As an expectant mother, Solona knew that that was not true.

Alistair and Celene watched from their positions reserved for dignitaries. The empress's expression was unreadable, but Solona noticed a trace of emotion from both the girl Briala and Ser Michel when one of her nobles started going on about knife-ears and half breeds.

The Viscountess filed that information for possible use later.

King Alistair was a different story. He spoke up openly in the child's defense. Aedan did not even try to stop him, he simply watched in support of his friend. For a man who seemed far too immature for his throne, Alistair surprised Solona that day; his words were strong, and steeped with conviction.

In short, he spoke like a king.

He reminded all that he had not been wanted, a mistake between his father and a star struck maid, considered inconvenient to his father, his brother, and the royal court. That he had been hidden away for most of his life, first in Redcliffe, and then in an abbey, he spoke of the resentment he had come to have for his own blood, his own existence.

He looked upon Solona, and demanded mercy for the child.

"No one should grow up ashamed of their own blood," he said, "This is not my affair, and I accept that, but if it within my power, I will not see an innocent child grow up as I did, being seen as an embarrassment or a threat to the people who should have loved them."

He stood straighter, and looked right at his host.

"Does Kirkwall fear the shadow of a newborn babe? To kill what might be a threat one day might be considered prudent, but to kill a baby is the height of cowardice."

Solona eyes widened.

Alistair blushed and stepped away, he returned to his spot near Aedan. The warden had a surprised look on his face.

"Well said Alistair," he said dryly.

The king gave him a sheepish look.

"I think I just caused an international incident Aedan."

"You spoke well," his friend said, "And reminded everyone why you are a king."

Alistair shrugged.

"We will probably end up at war with Kirkwall now."

The Hero of Ferelden chuckled.

"I don't think you will have to worry about that."

Alistair sighed.

He hoped his friend was right.

IOI

Solona glanced over at her family, Sebastian and Leandra were fairly easy to read, they no doubt expected mercy for the child.

Alistair's words had cut her. Yes Daylen's child could be dangerous, but…to kill a child?

The King was right, there was prudence, but there was also what was right.

Killing a baby because of who its parents were was not right, it was cowardice.

Bethany's expression was unreadable, Solona could not tell what her cousin thought or expected. She was a mother herself after all. She hated Neria and Daylen for what they did to her husband.

_Would __**she**__ demand that the baby die because of who its parents were?_

Varric and Garrett caught her eye; they seemed divided on the issue. Varric knew politics and how messy they could be when family got involved. As a dwarf, he likely saw good reason to remove the child.

Garrett shook his head no. In his eyes, family was still family. The child had done nothing.

It did not deserve to die for Death's Hand's crimes.

Either choice was bad, it was the kind of decision that any ruler hated.

The girl could be used as a rallying cry for her enemies. If the baby died it would become a martyr, if she let it live and it grew into womanhood it could be a threat to her own children, elf blooded or not.

She felt one of the twins kick inside her, yet another reminder that her own future might be at stake here.

The Viscountess sighed.

What to do?

IOI

Kala crushed the baby to her breast. It was difficult to her to admit, but since the loss of her own family, the little one was all she had left.

If the baby was gone, then what did it matter if Neria hunted her down and killed her?

She would be alone, and have nothing.

The Viscountess watched her with troubled eyes. She was clearly wrestling with what had to be done.

Finally the ruler sighed.

"My good woman," she said, "Do you have any feelings at all for this child?"

The nurse bowed her head, and looked down at the baby. Its mother had murdered her family, stole her own child from her.

She looked down into the little girl's eyes, the child blinked at her, cooing softly.

She had nursed the child, held it when it cried, while its mad mother carried out her unspeakable acts.

She was not like the Red Lady. She refused to be.

The girl nodded. She would care for the child, protect it…

That would be her revenge on her tormentor, to see that the girl grew up to be better than her parents.

Let them feel that loss.

"Please don't harm her," the girl begged.

The Viscountess sighed.

IOI

Knight-Commander Meredith was glaring daggers at Solona now.

She turned to the seekers.

"You should have brought the child to the chantry," she hissed.

"It was the young knight who responded the girl Cassandra.

"If the child is a mage it will be dealt with," she said coldly.

"But if it is not," Byron added, "It belongs with its family."

Despite her personal feelings, his squire nodded.

She would back her master in this.

"The choice is yours, Your Excellency," Byron said to Solona.

The Viscountess pursed her lips.

"The child is valuable," she said, "I will not become a monster and make a martyr to my enemy's cause. The child and its nurse shall remain here, as our guest."

"Amell," Meredith hissed.

Solona stopped her with a raised hand.

"Both child and nurse shall be examined. We must make sure that the blood mage has not left any surprises for us in this."

"I will see to it personally, Your Excellency," Byron promised.

Solona came down from the throne. Sebastian at her side, she approached the elf and asked if she might be able to see the baby.

The girl reluctantly surrendered it.

Solona looked down into that impish face; it watched her with a mix of curiosity and wonder.

Its mouth widened in a baby smile.

She sighed.

"You shall be protected little one," she said.

"You shall be kept safe."


	25. What Really Matters

**Chapter 25: What Really Matters**

Solona learned much during the summit between Orlais and Ferelden.

She spent as much time as she could with both delegations. Alistair and Celene both had their own lessons to teach her, even if they did not realize it.

Alistair she had come to realize was not what the nobles around her said he was. He was a bit of a soft-touch when it came to ruling, but the people under him respected his decisions. Both Bann Teagan and Aedan did not try to undercut his decisions during the negotiations. He was far from the puppet that the rumor mill portrayed him to be. He might not have wanted his throne originally, but he seemed to be comfortable enough with it now.

As a former Templar and Grey Warden, Alistair understood what it meant to lead men in war, and what was the rebuilding of Ferelden if not a war? Loghain and Howe still had loyalists among the nobles, men and women who would happily take up the banner against the king if he let them. Fortunately, he had Aedan and several other loyal advisors to counsel him. It likely kept those wolves from his door.

It was a sense of being that the Viscountess could sympathize with.

Celene was the opposite side of the spectrum, she loved the power she wielded, and played the game in the way only a master could. Solona did her best to remain neutral, but was not above coming to the King's rescue if it looked like Celene was going to trip him up in one of her webs.

She had to admit, the empress was a master of the long game, and it had likely served her well in keeping her court from dictating policy to her. She continued to advance Orlesian interests while at the same time touting herself as a champion of knowledge and the arts.

Both Celene and Alistair agreed that they did not want a war. Alistair knew that Ferelden was not yet ready to face the empire again, and the Empress was looking for new ways to gain what she wanted from Ferelden. In this, Alistair seemed to be in a better position than Celene. The Empress's games had kept her nobles in check for a long time, but…she was starting to run out of options.

The Orlesian nobles still expected Celene to choose one of them to be her lord consort. The longer she chose to wait the more tenuous her grip on the throne became. Solona suspected that she knew this, but continued on the same path anyway.

The Viscountess's mind drifted back to those two years before she had taken up with Sebastian, her mother advising her to find a match and take up a husband. She loved Sebastian, make no mistake, but had she not found love, she would have had to find a lord just to maintain control. If she had not, Daylen would have not had to work very hard to push her off the throne, especially when he married Angelique.

A wry smile came to Solona's face.

In hindsight, she knew that to be true, but would she have done the wise move back then? Daylen's rebellion had stripped away some of her naiveté, she was far from the girl that had taken the throne all those years ago.

From what she knew, Celene was alone in her palace, her parents were dead and none of the Valmont family stood with her, as far as she knew. The Empress's cousins were not close to her, they were rivals sniffing after her throne. She had only her champion and her servants.

It was a dangerous position to be in to be sure, not that she did not have her own family troubles of course.

Bethany had been extremely unhappy about her decision to bring Daylen's daughter into the keep. The baby was being cared for by the elven nurse that she had been captured with, but still…Bethany did not like the fact that anything or anyone close to Neria and Daylen were **that** close to them.

The night after they arrived, she had pulled her cousin aside. The baby, Angie was her name, would remain here, as a valuable hostage. She did not think that Neria would be eager to try anything extreme knowing that her child was being cared for in the halls of the keep.

Bethany's eyes had narrowed, she did not think it right that the Amell's give such succor to an enemy, even if it was a baby.

Solona had sighed.

She reminded her cousin that this was not the first time such an arrangement had been made by House Amell. After all, when the Threnhold dynasty had fallen, Viscount Aristide had taken pity on one of the children of that family, he had taken the boy in, first as a hostage, and later as a ward and trusted guard.

The Viscountess smiled.

That decision had worked out well for Bethany, she reminded her; after all, she had ended up marrying that boy.

Her cousin had not been pleased with that comparison, telling her that it was not fair.

Solona nodded, it was not fair, but it was necessary.

Perrin Bradley had been a good man. He had been raised by the Amell's to be a good man, and a loyal one.

Why not take the same opportunity here, to turn a possible adversary into an ally?

It was simply good business.

Bethany had returned to her duties after that, in her pursuit of Neria, she had neglected the Alienage for far too long. The elves needed to be reminded that they had not been forgotten. Plus, her cousin was now barred from the hunt being that the seekers were now directly involved. Gray, Fenris, and her Tevinters kept Bethany's secret, but the seekers would not be that understanding.

No, it was better that her cousin remained here, and leave the hunt to Byron and his people. She had responsibilities, both as an Amell and as Viceroy to the Alienage; the elves needed both her help, and her advocacy.

The Viscountess had remained true to her promise to Athenril that there would be no retaliation against the elves for their involvement with Daylen's regime. No formalized retaliation anyway, Aveline was being kept busy keeping overzealous nobles from turning on successful elven merchants in the city.

She also had begun to receive reports of an increased Qunari presence within the Alienage. The Tamassran that had accompanied the Arishok was often seen near the Alienage.

If the woman was fishing for converts, things could get messy when the Qunari finally left…

…If and when they left.

IOI

The week of the summit passed quickly. Beyond the city the seekers continued their hunt for Neria and her allies. Anders once again checked on the progress of Solona's pregnancy, she was so heavy with child now.

The healer advised that this summit would be the last of her political entanglements for a while. It would not be long until she gave birth. The time had come for her to settle in and prepare for that event.

So when she was not down with the Fereldans and Orlesians she was up in her quarters reading reports and approving new projects for the city.

It was on one of these days that Leandra came to see her.

Daylen had made a request of her.

It was something that she needed to answer.

IOI

Leandra had gone down to visit him, as she had many times over the last few months. In all the time that she had been doing this, she had gotten use to Death's Hand's various moods. Usually, they stayed bounced between manic, angry, or morose acceptance of his plight, but that was not the case today.

She arrived to find him strangely nervous. He kept his altered arm close to him, not wishing to draw attention to it. He thanked her no less than three times for her visits and the books.

For Leandra this was not strange, she had seen Daylen like this before, but it had been a long time.

For the moment, he reminded her of the boy she had met when they had first came to Kirkwall, the boy who had come to her for advice when he had first been considering trying to court Angelique Poole.

For the moment, Death's Hand was gone.

He was simply Daylen Amell again.

"Is she well cousin?" he asked.

"Is who well lad?" she had responded.

He lowered his eyes.

"My…my daughter…I…I have heard word that she has been brought to the keep. Is…is she well?

The noble woman had been surprised to hear this; she had not realized that Daylen had access to such knowledge.

He chuckled.

"I still have some people willing to speak to me," he reminded her, "They would never act against my sister, but that does not mean that they would not be willing to provide me with information of note."

She nodded slightly.

"Little Angelique is well," she said.

Daylen smiled.

"Neria named her for our…"

The boy smiled, it was a far different smile than the smirk of Death's Hand, that predatory shark-like grin.

"What is she like?" he demanded, "Tell me everything…please."

"I did not see her up close," she informed him, "She is being cared for by a nurse here in the keep."

"Of course, of course she is," he rose and began to pace. Leandra said nothing, waiting for him to exhaust some of that nervous energy.

He spun quickly, a desperate look on his face.

"I need to see her," he exclaimed.

IOI

She gave him a sad look.

"You can't," she said.

Can't, he thought, there was a time that that word had no meaning for him…

He would see that it did again.

"Leandra…please…"

"I do not have that kind of authority here Daylen," she reminded him.

He cursed under his breath. Of course she did not have that kind of power, only one person in Kirkwall did when it came to him, and she would likely not be open to his pleas, but…perhaps…

"Then go to my sister then," he said, "I…I know that this will not be easy, and I hate to ask this of you, but…but I…"

He held up his hands, the looking at them impotently.

"She is of my blood," he murmured, "Amell blood…I…I know that my sister blames me for so many things, but this…this is not about my crimes. It is about my rights…as…as a father…a parent.

"What would you do if you were me? What would you do if you knew that your child was in the hands of enemies? That they could kill her the moment she became an inconvenience."

"Your sister wouldn't…"

Death's Hand snarled.

Fury flashed in his eyes, his claws extended to their full length. Black fury pulsed through his veins.

He imagined his sister standing before him, gloating, tormenting him, it did not matter who the girl's mother was, only that she was his…

Solona…his dear sweet sister, who seemed to take such pleasure from destroying his dreams, he had no doubt that she would deny him even this.

"Does she want me to beg?" he growled, "Will that please my beloved sister? To see the rightful Viscount on his knees begging for the right that any condemned man would be granted?"

"You are not condemned," Leandra reminded him.

"No, I'm only to spend the rest of my life rotting in this cell."

The anger in his voice alerted the guards.

"Milady are you well?" one of them called out.

Daylen fell silent. He knew that if he continued ranting the guards would secure him, and it would be likely that his cousin would be barred from speaking with him again.

He sank to the floor of his cell, his hands cradled in his hands.

When he looked up, he was simply that boy she knew. He looked at her was such sadness in his eyes.

"Cousin…please."

Seeing him reduced to such a state broke the older woman's heart. Daylen had done much, he had hurt so many, but he was still family.

Family did not turn its back on family.

"I will speak with your sister," she said, "But I promise nothing."

He almost laughed.

"I…that is all I want, bless you cousin, bless you."

He took her hand in his human one and kissed it.

"I will try," she murmured as she left, "That is all I can do."

The cell door closed again, leaving him with only the shadows of his dark thoughts.

He smiled slightly.

He was eager to see his child, to know that she was safe.

He wanted to see the girl that would one day inherit his kingdom, the one who would one day rule not only Kirkwall but the world he would build for her.

Many would likely see such ideas as idol fantasies or delusions, but Daylen was not a man for such things. He knew that he would not die in this cell. He had too much to live for, a throne to win, a world to cleanse.

_He was __**not **__done yet, __**not **__but a longshot._

He would be free one day, and on that day his daughter would embrace him and thank him for what he had won of her.

She would understand then that it was all worth it.

That it had been all worth it.

IOI

Solona considered Daylen's request.

She hated that he had come to Leandra with it, and hated even more that he had people here that were still willing to provide him with such information.

She would put Varric on it in the morning, find out who was speaking with her brother, and have them removed.

Her hand went to her belly again, thinking of her own children. If the situation had been reversed, she doubted that Daylen would be open to such a request. If she had been imprisoned, he would not likely have let her see her children, if he permitted them to live at all.

It was a sobering thought.

If she said no, Daylen would no doubt cease being cooperative, but if she allowed him to see the girl, would he start helping her to assure her continued health? Would she be able to threaten a child to get what she wanted? She would never harm an innocent babe, but Daylen did not need to know that…

The Viscountess sighed.

Empress Celene would advise her to use whatever weapon she could to hold her throne. King Alistair would likely have advised her to follow her conscience…

All sound advice, but what would Solona of Kirkwall do?

The Viscountess pursed her lips.

She would do what she must, and trust that it was the right choice.

It was all that anyone could do.


	26. Arrivals

**Chapter 26: Arrivals**

Several weeks passed in the city of Kirkwall, the delegations from both Ferelden and Orlais returned home. None would likely say that the summit had been entirely successful, but it had brought about at least some positive change…

Both nations agreed to keep the diplomatic lines open. Celene promised to keep the chevaliers from the Ferelden border, and Alistair appointed Bann Teagan as the official ambassador between the two countries.

Whether Teagan was entirely happy with this arrangement few could say, but at least the two parties did not leave Kirkwall as enemies.

More importantly for Kirkwall however, both nations agreed to stay out of the fighting involving the throne of Kirkwall. Both Alistair and Celene pledged that they would offer no support to any of the would-be contenders in the War of Lions.

For the Viscountess, this was a load off of her mind; she had no desire to drag anymore of their neighbors into what should be a purely internal matter for the city of chains.

The final banquet for the departing monarchs was quite an affair, once again stressing the friendship between not only the two powers, but with Kirkwall as well. Her final farewells to her fellow rulers were what she expected. Alistair wished her all the best in returning Kirkwall to a place of peace once again. Celene offered indirectly to supply her with aid should Solona ever decide to bring Kirkwall back into the imperium, for the sake of stability of course…

The Viscountess thanked her for her generous offer, but respectfully declined. She had no desire to have foreign troops in Kirkwall, but said it far more politely for the Empress's benefit.

_We marchers are just stubborn that way_.

The next few weeks dragged on, monotony became an enemy that Solona wrestled with daily. She understood that she needed to be patient, that her children would come in due time…

Alas, patience was not something that she had always been known for, she preferred action over waiting. She wanted to be out. She…she wanted to be doing something, something besides just sitting on her bed.

Of course, one new piece of business did manage to gain her attention. Varric's contact had managed to make it back from the island of Estwatch…

The mysterious Fereldan had agreed to meet with her representatives.

The news pleased Solona, at least until she heard the stipulations for the meeting between Kirkwall and Estwatch.

The pirate lord agreed to the meet, but he preferred a neutral site, some place that wouldn't give either side an advantage. He had provided a list of sites where this meeting could take place, allowing the Viscountess to choose the location, but in exchange, the pirate wanted to choose Solona's emissary…

He wanted Cousin Leandra.

Both Bethany and Garrett had been horrified when she told them. Neither of the Hawke children wished their mother to walk into a dangerous situation alone.

She would be allowed a bodyguard, and since Solona was choosing the location of the meeting, the pirates felt that the matriarch of House Hawke should feel quite safe.

Leandra was not sure what to make of all of this. She was no negotiator, why would a pirate think that she would be a proper representative for their House?

Both Aveline and Bran were against the meeting, both feared that it might be some kind of a trap, a way to extort ransom from Kirkwall.

Solona knew that the threat of such a thing was very real, but still…the chance to be the first ruler to have a treaty with the pirates of Estwatch…

_It would be worth it, if it could be done._

Both Gray and Fenris volunteered to serve as the lady's bodyguard. Garrett also offered to stand with her, but Aveline shot that down. For all they knew that is what this so-called king of blades wanted, yet another Amell to walk into his hands.

Garrett was about to start shouting back, but the Viscountess stopped the two with a stern look.

She gave her elder cousin a sympathetic look.

She knew what she was asking. The last time she had asked one of the Hawkes to go on a mission for her had nearly ended in disaster, with Bethany falling under the sway of the mad Lady Harimann.

She would understand if Leandra said, no.

Leandra sighed heavily.

She asked her royal cousin if this was what was best for their family?

The Viscountess did not lie to her, a deal with Estwatch would go a long way to securing peace on the Waking Sea, a peace that was desperately needed if they were going to restore Kirkwall shipping to its pre-war status. Not to mention the value of having allies who could deal with the thieves who had made off with so many of Kirkwall's combat ships.

In the end, against the wished of her children, Leandra agreed to act as Solona's emissary. Fenris would accompany her when she went, and promised to guard the elder noble woman with his life.

Varric's man sent word back to Estwatch, so that they might finalize the agreement, and choose the site.

The Viscountess knew that both Garrett and Bethany were unhappy about this, but in the end…it was Leandra's choice.

Solona would do her best to make sure that she did not pay for it.

IOI

It was a few hours before dawn when it finally began.

As was her way, Solona rose early, and began her work for the day. She crawled out of her bed, and made her way over to the desk in her room when…

"Uggggh!"

The tightness in her belly almost doubled her over; she grasped the edge of the desk to keep from falling. She took a deep breath and tried to…

Again she nearly fell; she barely managed to make it to her chair before…

"Sebastian," she called out.

Her husband groaned in his sleep.

"Love," she groaned, "Please wake up…please."

"La…Lona?" she heard him murmur, he sat up in bed rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"What is…?"

He paused in mid-sentence, noticing the pain on his wife's face, the way she was leaning over.

He practically leapt out of bed.

"It is time?"

She tried to give him a wan smile.

"It is time."

IOI

Nearly ten hours passed. Solona had gone to the healing room within the keep. Anders had been summoned as had Bethany, both were assisting the Viscountess in her time of need.

Sebastian paced the floor nervously, at every cry of pain from his wife he nearly jumped. The rest of the Amells stood waiting beside him. Garrett idly flipping a dagger end over end. Graydon Stark stood near the door, keeping any over eager messengers away. Leandra did what she could to keep little Carver occupied, not that they needed to worry. The little fellow seemed content to play with his blocks, building them up, and knocking them over again, giggling happily as he did so.

Garrett Hawke smiled down at the dark haired toddler.

"I do not think that you made us wait this long," he chuckled.

The boy burbled at him and returned to his playing.

"Is this normal," Sebastian asked for the twentieth time, "Should it not be over by now?"

Leandra smiled slightly; having given birth to twins herself she knew how stubborn they could be.

"Babies come in their own time Milord," Graydon Stark said sagely, "I was present for my mother, my stepmother, and one of my older sisters giving birth."

A sad smile touched the knight's face, remembering his family, now lost to the Blight.

Orana emerged from the room. The nobles almost surrounded her.

"Move please," she growled, "WE NEED MORE HOT WATER!"

A servant rushed to respond.

Sebastian almost grabbed the elf.

"Is she well?" he asked.

"She...she is doing well;" the elf said shyly, "But...but Master Anders needs Lady Bethany to help, to keep bolstering our Mistress's strength."

The lack of conviction in the girl's words frightened her husband.

The elf disappeared back into the room, leaving a pale and nervous lord consort behind.

Seneschal Bran sent another runner for an update, a runner which Gray sent away. The royal court had gathered to await the birth of the heirs, but for now any runner was just in the way.

The Viscountess cried out again.

Sebastian found himself whispering prayers to both the Maker and Andraste, praying for the health of his wife and children.

Praying they would both come through this day all right.

IOI

Solona gasped, as her babies were slowly being pushed out of her.

The Viscountess was soaked in sweat; her white hair appeared almost gray in the dim light of the birthing room.

She looked up at Anders and Bethany. Once upon a time, a whole gaggle of circle healers would be here to aid in the birth of a royal child, but with the state of cold war existing between Meredith and the Viscountess that was not likely an option.

Another contraction struck her, it was nearly time, but that did nothing to appease the young ruler, or her mood.

She glared up at Anders.

"**I WANT THEM OUT OF ME, **_**NOW**_**!"**

Aqua colored fire flared in her eyes.

"They are coming, Your Excellency," he soothed, using his own magic to counter hers.

Solona breathed as the contraction lessened.

"I'm never letting him touch me again," she promised.

The healer chuckled.

_If he had a silver for every time he heard a woman in labor say those words._

IOI

Bethany added a spell to help her cousin with the pain. She sympathized, she truly did. When little Carver had been born…

Thinking of her son brought up memories of her late husband, about the few short months they had spent caring for the boy, right up until Death's Hand had…

She pushed such memories back; they did little go here and now.

Now…now they had to focus on Solona.

IOI

Anders checked the progress of the birth.

_It was finally time._

"I need you to push now," he ordered.

Solona did her best to comply.

"PUSH!" Anders shouted, "PUSH!"

"I AM BLOODY PUSHING!"

It was a pain like the Viscountess had never known, even her duel against Death's Hand paled in comparison, but she did not falter…

She needed to do this for her children.

"That is it!" Anders exclaimed, "Good!"

Solona cried out.

A baby's cry joined hers.

"We have the first," Bethany squealed.

Solona gasped.

"It…it is a boy," he informed her.

A boy, Solona thought, with tears in her eyes.

The next Viscount of Kirkwall.

"Here comes the next," the healer said, "I think this little one is eager to join its brother."

Solona pushed with all her strength. Eager to see her children, after so many months of waiting, after so many years of fearing…

A second cry joined the first; Anders took the little one into his arms.

"It is a girl," he said, "You have a little girl Your Excellency!"

Solona almost sobbed as she sank back with exhaustion. Weakness almost overwhelmed her.

She felt Bethany's healing magic wash over her, even as Anders did what he could to bolster her strength.

A hint of a smile played over her lips.

_I did __**it **__mother__**. I did it!**_

_Our family __**will **__go on!_

Solona lapsed into unconsciousness.

IOI

The birth had not been easy. Had it not been for Anders and Bethany, Solona might not have survived, so weak was she after, but in this…magic had found a way. Though it would be unlikely that Solona would have any more children, Anders feared the risk was too great, but that was a worry for another day.

For now, the children were fine, and the mother would recover.

The Viscountess awoke to find her husband at her side, her family standing behind them. Sebastian clutched her hand tightly.

"Hi," she whispered.

He smiled with tears in his eyes.

"Hello my love."

Her brow furrowed slightly.

"The babies?" she murmured.

Leandra and Bethany handed the little ones to their mother, after so long she finally got to see them. She could already tell the boy would have his Father's features. The girl yawned and snuggled tightly against her mother, a shock of white blond hair visible on her tiny head.

Solona smiled at them. She and Sebastian had agreed to the names they had chosen some time ago, but seeing the babies here, holding them in her arms.

It changed everything.

"Hello Perrin," she whispered to her son.

The baby blinked regarding her curiously.

Bethany, who had not known that Solona and Sebastian had intended to name the boy for her husband started to cry.

It was Sebastian who had chosen that name for his son, wanting to honor his friend.

The little girl took a white lock of Solona's hair in her tiny hand, studying it intently.

"Hello Livia," she murmured.

The baby did not respond, so intent was her desire to study her mother's hair.

In the distant chantry, the bells began to ring, word had been sent of the birth of the little prince and princess.

They would ring for the entire day, in homage to the two royal births.

Kirkwall was far from at peace. Enemies still watched from its borders like hungry predators, while the overly ambitious schemed from within, but for the moment, that did not matter.

In this moment, for the Viscountess and her family, all was right with the world.


	27. A Stark Life

**Chapter 27: A Stark Life**

He regarded himself in the mirror, not quite sure he liked what he saw there, The court clothes he wore never seem to fit right on him, the polished leather vest, the gold piping on the neck, the dark maroon silk shirt.

Ser Graydon Stark sighed.

It was expected of him as a member of the Viscountess's inner circle, in Kirkwall he was not just some common soldier, but a man of importance now.

That did not mean that he felt any less ridiculous.

"So what do you think boy?"

The coal-gray warhound groaned and covered his muzzle with his front paws and whimpered.

The knight frowned.

"You are no help."

The dog whined.

Gray shook his head, he hated to admit it, but he found himself agreeing with the dog, seeing himself in such garments…it was like putting a silk hat on a pig.

It was certainly not the apparel for a common soldier, which was still how he saw himself.

Even If that common soldier had once been knighted by the Teyrn of Gwaren himself, it was not something he had ever been comfortable with. More and more he began to understand why the Teyrn chose to wear battle armor at official functions.

Gray chuckled.

"Finery has never been one of our strong suits has it?"

The hound sighed.

Ser Stark shook his head.

_What in Andraste's name am I doing here?_

This was not the life he had expected to have six months ago. In truth, after he had finished his mission for King Alistair he had expected that he would have ended up walking the path of a sell-sword. That he would find some cause worth fighting for, and likely die trying to make that cause a reality. After what had happened in Ferelden, he…he had never expected to take up the path of knighthood again, and yet here he was, an important man here in Kirkwall, standing before the mirror in his new home, looking like some noble fop.

Some would likely say that all this was his due for helping to put the Viscountess back on her throne. The house he lived in belonged to House Amell, and the coin he made came from a military stipend set up by Solona herself. Kirkwall might not have had a standing army, but the guard and volunteers that fought when called upon were all brave men and women. He respected them, and they returned that respect in turn.

It was a life worth fighting for.

Cauthrien likely would have laughed if she could see him now. Teyrn Loghain would not likely of approved of his new station in life. For so long, the two of them had defined his standards on what he thought was expected of him, now…now they were gone and he was still here, still trying to make sense of the world around him.

Maybe he would get lucky and succeed one day.

The image of the Teyrn's cold avian features swam up into Gray's mind, that hard withering gaze. Loghain would likely have seen his actions in the past few months as a betrayal of their homeland. He would likely have said that Gray's place was in Ferelden, defending his homeland.

The thought made the knight purse his lips.

The sad thing was that Ferelden did **not** feel like home anymore. The Stark family was gone. Cauthrien was gone, and Loghain was gone. He had done his best to carry on by himself, but when the chance to leave had come he had jumped at it. He had fulfilled his final obligation to the King and had not looked back after…

During the recent summit, he had gone to King Alistair's side to explain his actions. He had had no desire to see his personal business to interfere with the relationship between his old home and his new one. He had chosen to remain here in Kirkwall and serve Viscountess Amell and her family. He did not need Alistair's permission to leave his service, but he wished to have his King's blessing.

The ruler of Ferelden had surprised him; in fact he seemed pleased that Gray had found a place here in Kirkwall. He had told the knight that he had no desire to hold a man in a place that he was unhappy. That he knew how troubling that was from personal experience.

He had given Gray the official leave that he had not received originally; the knight was now free to follow his own star. He had thanked the king and went about his business.

_He was truly a knight of Kirkwall now, wasn't that interesting._

He had expected to end up serving as bodyguard when Lady Leandra left to meet with this mysterious leader of Estwatch. She had left a week ago with Solona's elven bodyguard at her side. He trusted Ser Fenris, but thought it better that a true knight and fellow Ferelden stand with the lady during the meeting. He thought that the pirate lord would have respected that more, and been less likely of betrayal knowing that a knight stood at the lady's side.

The elder noble would not hear of it, Fenris was more than capable of defending her, and she would feel safer knowing that her family had a skilled military mind to watch over them.

Her words had surprised him. Gray had never seen himself as some great defender of the city. The Viscountess's guard looked up to him as a leader, but that had been expected considering the role he had played when Solona had freed them from their former mistress. During the hunt for Death's Hand's witch, he took the lead, but that was only because Lady Bethany and Fenris lacked the military training of an officer, and even that role had been taken from him recently, the seekers preferred to hunt the red witch alone, and did not wish interference from him and Lady Bethany.

The lady understood given her…secrets. As for Gray he did not mind stepping back and letting the Seekers do their work. Hunting blood mages was part of their mandate.

Besides the thought of him remaining in command of such a mission, it was preposterous.

Gray did not see himself as a leader; he was a soldier and a warrior. He had never asked to take command. The thought of General Graydon Stark was quite laughable to him.

_Surprisingly not everyone agreed._

Several nobles had approached him about alliances since his coming to Kirkwall. They saw him as a rising star, a man with a future. Some nobles saw opportunity in that. That Gray's place within Solona's good graces meant that he should take his place among them. Several had even offered their daughters, thinking that bringing him into their families was a good idea.

He had done his best to discourage such talk. He was not the type of man who would function well in that world. As a soldier he never expected to settle down, he had grown up in a large family, and though he missed them, did not wish to subject himself to such a fate. It was too difficult in his eyes to be both a warrior and a family man.

He had never been meant for a life of peace. No, it was more likely that he would die on some battlefield with an enemy's blade in his chest.

He had no desire to inflict that on some poor noble girl, and if they had had any children…

No, it was better that he stay unattached, both for him and anyone else.

Besides the noble women of Kirkwall had little appeal to him, he had always appreciated a sense of danger in his past dalliances.

His sister Gwendolyn had always thought he just had bad taste in women, or perhaps _inappropriate _taste was a better word. She never approved of Cauthrien calling her a female version of the Teyrn, too cold to ever be a potential mate, and certainly not good mother material.

Gwen had always been trying to convince him to try and settle down. He found himself wondering what she would have thought of Tallis…

Okay, maybe it was better that he not know her opinion on that matter, just another bad relationship that would come to a dead end, like all of his past attempts.

His infatuation with Tallis was just another example of that, he knew that they had no future, her loyalty was to the Qun, just as his was now to Lady Solona and Kirkwall.

Trying to pursue such a relationship would only lead to pain and trouble.

Scooping up his sword, he made for the door, He had been summoned to the keep this morning and it was not wise to keep the Viscountess waiting. Brunt fell in step behind him; most of the nobles here in Hightown did not know what to make of his scarred up companion.

The knight had come to enjoy the shock value.

Gray often advised his dog publically not to try to eat the many lapdogs that were scurrying around the noble estates. He was only kidding, but they did not know that, and Brunt seemed to enjoy that all the yipping ankle biters kept their distance.

Most days the dog was as uncomfortable being here as his master was. Brunt had been born to the rolling hills of the Hinterlands of Ferelden. He was never meant to be a city dog.

Gray felt sorry for him, but was happy that he was here.

It was nice to know that he did not have to suffer this road alone.

He had left Ferelden to serve in Solona's court, it was a bit confining at times, but it was the life he had chosen.

A gilded cage that he could at least slip out of once in a while, a soldier's duties were always there when he was ready to take them up again.

He was grateful for that.

IOI

She watched from the shadows.

Tallis did nothing to alert Gray and Brunt to her presence. She realized that she should not be here; that her time would be better spent carrying on her mission, and finding the Tome of Koslun as she had been ordered.

The Arishok's patience continued to grow more and more thin. The chaos in Kirkwall offended him with its very presence. He longed for the peace and certainty of Par Vollen, a place denied him as long as the tome remained out of their possession.

Tallis's eyes narrowed, it was because of her that the Qunari suffered so. Had she never stolen that tome…?

She would never have known the certainty that she now enjoyed.

_The tome had to be recovered; it was the only way she would ever know true peace._

It was the only way the Arishok would ever accept her as being one with the way of the Qun.

"Back at your vigil I see."

She did not jump, but she spun her hand going to her weapon. The figure behind her raised her hands, showing that she was unarmed.

The woman who had once been Isabela sighed.

"Greeting Besrathari," she said warmly.

The red haired elf who had recruited her into the Qunari nodded, her eyes following the retreating knight. The look on her face was evaluatory.

"So that is your human," she said dryly, "I can see why you have been so distracted."

Tallis lowered her eyes.

They both held the rank of Tallis, but she could not shake the thought that the elf was better at it than she. As Tallis, the elf had performed many successful missions for the Qun.

While she remained frustrated by failure…

…failure…and doubt.

"Though we see the pit," the elf murmured, "We cannot avoid it."

Tallis stood a little straighter.

"I'm of the Qun," she said coldly.

"I don't doubt that," the red-haired elf sighed, "It can be difficult for us, so far from Par Vollen, surrounded by the basra. I suspect it is even worse for you. I chose this life; you were forced into the Qun."

Her student shook her head, she remembered little of her resistance, but in the end, she had fallen, as all who oppose the Qun must.

"I struggled foolishly," the other woman shrugged, "I thought to continue my life as a pathless thief."

She set her mouth in a grim line.

"Now I see the truth, struggle is an illusion, victory is in the Qun."

"Well said," the elven Tallis replied, "I just wish you to understand that you are not alone. I have felt temptation as well."

That given her student pause, few Besrathari would admit such things.

"You…you thought of leaving your duty behind?"

The elf grinned.

"Shortly after we first arrived here, I was sent on a mission. I met a man, a good man who was lost in his desire for vengeance. We fought together, even though we knew our paths were destined to clash eventually."

"What happened?"

The elf gave her a sad look.

"He died," she replied, "But not before he asked me to come away with him, to free myself from the Qun."

She shook her head.

"We had much in common. We saw the world in very similar ways."

The woman who had once been Isabela shook her head.

"You would have abandoned the Qun?"

"I was tempted," the elf confessed, "But in the end I returned to my duty. I chose this life. I have no desire to turn away from it."

The elven Tallis sighed.

"Do you desire this man?" she asked her student.

"I still believe House Amell is the key to us recovering the Tome of Koslun. We searched the Death's Hand's holdings but found nothing, but…"

"But you still believe that he has the tome?"

"Or knows where it is," her student clarified, "The Arishok has forbidden me to go to the Amell for aid, and I will obey, but Gray could act on our behalf. I merely wish that he will not be harmed if he aids us."

The elf nodded.

"You realize of course that this could be considered rebellious by the Arishok?"

Her student's eyes narrowed.

"If it brings us the Tome, it is a risk I'm prepared to take."

A smile came to her Besrathari face.

"It seems I've trained another renegade," the elf smirked, "I cannot openly help you, but that does not mean that I will not aid you in this mission, as long as the tome is ours once again, I don't believe the Arishok will question your methods."

Her student smiled.

"Thank you Besrathari," she said, "I shall not fail."

"We shall await your success, Ataash Qunari."

"Ataash Qunari."

IOI

Gray cut through the market place on his way to the Viscount's Way. He typically avoided it unless he was here on official business. He did not often seek goods here, a soldiers life had gotten him used to a rather Spartan existence.

The market was busy today; the nobles were out in force enjoying the briskness of yet another Kirkwall winter. A group of dwarven traders made their way towards the keep. They were all hooded and cloaked, and seemed not interested in all in anyone around them.

The sight set off a warning bell in the knight's mind.

Since when do dwarven traders not try to drum up a little business even if they have places to go?

He was about to mention something to a guardsman when he spotted Bethany Bradley out of the corner of his eye. She was dressed in a heavy fur cloak and was being escorted by Ser Avery Howell of all people.

Ser Graydon had never really approved of the man; he had only left Ferelden service after the war had ended. Avery and his fellows were nothing more than glorified deserters.

It was not something that a man like Graydon Stark respected.

He realized in that moment that he was not only one who had noticed the Viscountess's cousin. The dwarves seemed to be moving apart from each other, appearing to check the wears in the marketplace, while shooting occasional looks towards the noble woman and her escort.

Slowly the traders had begun to ring Bethany and Avery, it was subtle, but not for one used to such tactics.

Gray made his way towards the pair. He hoped he was overreacting but…

A dwarf barred his path.

"**Shove off cloudgazer**," the merchant snarled, "**Nothing** to see here."

The man's manner did not suggest that he was a merchant, nor did the tattoos that marked his face, but that was not what finally drove Graydon Stark to act.

It was the man's eyes. Eyes that he had seen many times fighting in Bannorn during the Blight.

…His milky blighted eyes, the eyes of a ghoul.

He did not hesitate.

Stark's sword had cleared its sheath before the dwarf had a chance to react, his blade took the off the dwarf's head with a single swipe.

Battle broke out in the market place.

Bodyguards tried to get their noble patrons to safety while guardsmen tried to stop the flight from turning into a stampede.

The "traders" all pulled wicked looking blades from their under their cloaks.

"CAPTURE THE HAWKE!" one shouted.

"FOR THE MASTER!" they shouted in unison.

Gray had only seen eight traders when he first noticed, now the shadowy areas around the market seemed to have been hiding a small legion of dwarven thugs.

All of them were armed with short blades. They ringed Bethany, Avery, Gray, and Brunt.

They were now surrounded, and the guards were tied up trying to make their way through the crowd.

There would be no backup coming from them.

The knight looked at the odds. They were clearly not in nobles favor…

Stark's eyes narrowed.

_This,_ he thought, _could be a problem._


	28. Motive: Unknown

**Chapter 28: Motive: Unknown**

"Friends of yours, Stark?"

Gray did his best to ignore Ser Avery's question, his eyes darting to the enemy that had surrounded them. Ser Avery had pulled his own sword and stood at the ready. Lady Bethany had fallen behind them glaring impotently at the dwarves.

Ser Gray fell sorry for her, this must have been frustrating. He had seen the power of the Lady's magic. She had shared her secret with him during their hunt for Neria Surana. Of course then, it had only been him, Fenris, and a squad of Solona's Tevinter guards.

If she had been able to attack openly, it was unlikely that she would need anyone to defend her, even against such numbers, a wave of a hand and she likely could have blasted them all back, unfortunately she could not do that here in the middle of Hightown, all it took was one word whispered into the ear of a Templar and…

House Amell would likely be undone.

"I don't suppose you have any more bodyguards standing by?" he asked Avery.

His fellow Fereldan snorted at that.

"They are all dead around us," the other man mentioned, two had been trampled by the fleeing crowd; the others had been cut down by dwarven blades.

There would be no help coming on that front.

_Oh well_, Gray thought, _the hard way then_.

"Brunt, protect the lady," Stark ordered.

The scarred warhound growled menacingly at the dwarves, looking ready to spring any moment.

The dwarves did not seem to be intimidated, but Gray had never seen any ghoul who could be.

Bethany glanced at him.

"Your defense is appreciated," she said softly, though it was clear that she would have preferred to deal with this enemy herself.

Gray could sympathize.

He wished that she could come to their aid as well.

The attackers were moving, trying to guide them towards the steps of Lowtown. The dwarves were herding there would be prisoners. They said nothing, merely stared hungrily at their prey.

Gray's hand tightened on his weapon.

Whatever this was, it did not feel like kidnap. No demands to throw down their weapons, only those rigored grins.

Whatever happened, he realized, he would not let these ghouls take them, and yes he was now certain that all of these dwarves were ghouls, he could barely make out the milky eyes and the black sores, but they were there.

Ghouls were terrifying creatures, not as bad as the darkspawn they served, but close…

Most were left mindless by the taint, but some had some degree of intelligence, especially when the infection was still fresh.

He had seen what ghouls had done to the prisoners they took during the Blight, he had no intention of sharing that fate.

Bethany glared at their enemies. He could hear her murmuring to herself.

"If only I could. If only I could. If only I could."

A small clay ball rolled from out of the shadows, it seemed unremarkable except for the strange hissing string emerging from its top.

"**DOWN!"** a voice shouted behind them.

Gray pushed Bethany down while his hound tackled Ser Avery.

The small clay ball exploded.

It was not a large blast, but then again it was not meant to be. The ghouls took the brunt of the force of it though. Three lost limbs, while the blast blew several more back. Distracted by the shockwave, the dwarves spun to meet this new attack.

It was the moment that Gray and Brunt had been waiting for.

The hound pounced, while his master lunged forward, his sword catching two of the dwarves unaware. Ser Avery followed suit burying a dagger deep into the small of one of their attacker's backs.

They had their opening.

Now they had to make the best of it.

IOI

Bethany might have been limited from doing magic, but she was not defenseless. She scooped up a pole arm from one of their fallen adversaries and quickly joined the attack.

Finding themselves being assaulted on two fronts put the dwarves off their game for a moment, but they still had superior numbers, and that meant that the odds were still in their favor.

It was then that their savior joined the fray.

Bethany's eyes widened slightly.

Isabela was here, or rather, the woman who she had known as Isabela was here.

It was a strange thing seeing her brother's former lover in full Qunari garb, wielding one of their swords, and snarling in the language of the ox-men. Cousin Lona had often described her Qunari ally, how she had apparently lost none of her fighting ability since her conversion, if anything she was more dangerous. There was no taunting or playfulness in the woman anymore. Only cold savage intent remained. She made for Gray first, the two of them fighting almost back to back with Brunt doing his best to keep and dwarves away from her.

Avery had abandoned his sword for a pair of daggers; his movements were as precise as they were savage. He wasted no effort, each blow was meant to kill, and even had he missed that killing stroke, the substance that stained his blades would finish what he started.

Normally she did not approve of poisoned blades, but considering what they faced.

"Greetings, Gray," she heard the Qunari say, as struck down another attacker.

"Do we know each other miss?" the knight asked.

Bethany saw her shoot him a curious look.

Gray smiled at her.

"You did say I should try and forget about you," he said.

The Qunari spat and beheaded another enemy.

Bethany shook her head.

She had never seen Gray flirt with a woman before…

The timing might not have been the best, but it was nice to know that he was capable of it.

It made him seem more approachable somehow.

IOI

The dwarves did not surrender. They fought to the last man.

Ser Avery shook his head.

Such loyalty was prized in such warriors, he thought, if only his own crew fought with such ferocity.

The city guard finally arrived, long after they could have been of any use of course.

He turned to Bethany; she had finally thrown down the pole arm she had used during the fight.

He did his best to appear concerned for her safety; he went to her, his concerned questions making her smile.

It was a necessary role; his plans depended on her after all, he found it pleasing that she was not simply some porcelain doll that needed to be protected.

Strong women gave birth to strong sons after all. If he was to attain all that he desired, that concern had more and more merit…

And Avery intended to have everything he deserved, and **more**.

He turned to Gray. The knight seemed…distracted, his hands drifted over the Qunari woman's body, checking for injuries.

…_A most enjoyable pursuit to be sure, given the fullness of the dark skinned woman's figure._

"I am fine Gray," he heard her growl, "I am uninjured."

The knight did not listen.

"Ghouls like to use tainted blades," he responded, "Just checking for any scratches that might turn into something worse.

She seized his hand in her.

"I said I'm fine."

The two locked eyes, both were still breathing heavily from the fight, neither man nor woman seemed willing to show any weakness to the other. Neither of them wanted to give an inch.

The tension between the two was thick; you could almost cut it with a sword.

Avery prided himself on his ability to read people, to find their weaknesses and decide how best to exploit it. He had been searching for a weakness in Graydon Stark for quite some time.

Now, he had found it.

His fellow Fereldan was clearly in lust with the beautiful Qunari. Such a weakness was quite easy to exploit, and would no doubt allow him to set the knight up for a trap sometime in the future.

It would be a trap that he would not survive.

It was nothing personal of course, but Avery had no choice. He had made his fortune here by being the top Fereldan outside of the royal family. If Stark's star continued to rise, he would become a threat to the exiled noble's plans.

That could not be allowed.

No, Graydon Stark would have to die eventually.

Avery filed Gray's attraction to the Qunari woman for future use.

The sound of bells startled him out of his musing, at first he thought that they were coming from the chantry, but then as he listened closer, he realized the truth.

Those weren't chantry bells.

He looked around, doing a quick head count of the guardsmen who had descended on the marketplace.

The attack here in the market had been a diversion.

The bells they were hearing were from the keep.

It was under attack.

IOI

Solona had just put little Livia down for her nap when the alarm rang out.

The twins wailed at the loud and unfamiliar sound. She did her best to sooth them, even as her anger began to rise.

The Viscountess's eyes narrowed.

There were intruders in the keep.

She scooped up her staff from its hiding place.

"Orana," she called out.

The elven handmaiden was at her side almost instantly.

"Yes, Mistress?" the girl mewed.

"Watch over the twins," she ordered.

She was about to go out into the hall, to find out what was happening.

Farris beat her to it, he threw open the door. The Tevinter scanned the room quickly for danger, seeing none he stood at attention.

"Report," Solona growled to her captain of the Viscountess's guard.

"Dwarves, My Lioness," he responded.

"Dwarves?"

The man nodded.

"Your guard is engaging them now; they are attempting to breach the royal apartments.

_All going up then_, she thought_, perhaps not all._

"If you can spare anyone, send them down to my brother's cell. Trying to get up here may be some kind of diversion."

"It will be done, My Lioness."

Farris hurried off to see that her orders were obeyed.

Solona strode into the hallway, eager to get a look at these intruders for herself.

She did not have to search hard to find them.

All she had to do was follow the screams.

She was surprised to see that the fighting had moved away from her and Sebastian's rooms, it all seemed to be focused down the hall and…

The Viscountess's eyes widened in realization and in horror.

The Dwarves were not after her or her heirs, beside her and Daylen in the dungeon there was only one person of value beside her and Sebastian on this level.

They were after Carver!

She arrived at Bethany's room to find that the hall had turned into a battle ground. Viscountess's Guards were trying to push the dwarves back, but the small men were armored and fought like their lives depended on it.

Which it probably did, without hostages they were not likely going to get out of the keep alive, the Tevinters took the safety of her family very seriously, it was one of their best traits.

She noticed the body of a servant laying on the floor, likely killed early in the attack. The man's death had likely started this fight, had he not got in the dwarves way…

She could hear the sound of Carver crying, and her guard shouting for someone to stay back, likely the girl who took care of the boy when Leandra or his mother was out.

Anger flared in Solona's breast.

The last eight months had been difficult, leaving the harshest duties of rule to other because of her condition. She loved her children make no mistake, but…

She was tired of sitting back while her enemies maneuvered around her.

No more.

She scanned the hall, only her Viscountess's guard and the enemy remained.

She was free to act.

"Fall back," she ordered her soldiers.

The freed Tevinters did so without question; it was something that they had been drilled almost from birth with. They might have all been free men and women now, but that did not change how they had been taught.

_When a mage gives an order, __**you **__obey._

The six or seven surviving dwarves looked at her from beneath their cowls.

She glared at them.

"Surrender **now!"** she ordered.

Two began to raise their bows.

The Viscountess struck.

She threw out her hand.

A wave of arcane energy swept down the hall. The dwarves who were upfront were disintegrated by the strike; the ones in the back were badly burned and flung against the wall.

Solona breathed out, feeling a strange sense of relief.

It had been so long since she had been able to release her power, to feel it rush out and make her desires a reality.

The guards looked at her with respect, they had seen her power before, but seemed relieved that she had come to their aid.

She looked for Farris but did not see him, in his place she looked for the nearest officer.

"Check for survivors," she murmured.

The guard hurried to obey.

She walked into Bethany's room. Two more dwarves lay dead here, along with one of her own guards.

Another man lost, she thought sadly, but her eyes quickly hardened with grim determination.

Whoever was responsible for this attack would answer.

"My Lioness?"

The officer she had sent had returned.

She nodded, awaiting his report.

"We have a survivor."

She followed in his wake. Normally any prisoners would be turned over to Aveline for interrogation, but this was different.

This was a direct attack on the royal family, her family.

The Viscountess could not let that path.

The surviving dwarf was not long for the world of the living. His face had been blackened on one side by her attack; a single milky white eye remained.

She gave him her coldest stare.

"Who sent you?" she demanded.

The dwarf coughed.

She put the bladed end of her staff to his neck.

"Who sent you?"

More coughing, no wait, she thought.

Not coughing, the man was giggling.

He was laughing at her.

Her temper flared anew.

"You think this some kind of joke?"

He managed a sneer despite the burns on his face.

"The…master will rise," he groaned, his eyes flashing with fanatic glee, "You will be broken beneath his feet, and the…the Carta will be… rewarded for their loyalty, in both life and death!"

The man lunged forward; the blade on Solona's staff sank deep into his chest, ending his life.

The fanatic slumped over, dead at her feet.

The Viscountess stood there her blue eyes wide with shock.

_The master will rise._

_You will be broken beneath his feet._

What was that about, the words of a dying fool, or a warning for a greater darkness to come?

She needed to find out.

Before it was too late.


End file.
